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FADETTE 


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Copyright,  1893,  by 
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University  Press: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


>^  r-*)  V»>^  "i       *v  ">    \^    "n  ■>  '      i 


PREFACE 

IT  was  after  the  terrible  days  of  June,  1848,  that, 
troubled  and  overwhelmed  to  the  bottom  of  my 
soul  by  the  storms  from  without,  I  tried  to  find 
again  in  solitude,  if  not  calm,  at  least  faith.  If  I 
professed  to  be  a  philosopher,  I  might  believe  or 
pretend  that  belief  in  ideas  brings  peace  of  mind  in 
presence  of  the  disastrous  facts  of  contemporary  his- 
tory ;  but  it  is  not  at  all  so  with  me,  and  I  humbly 
confess  that  the  certainty  of  a  future  ordered  by 
Providence  could  not  bar  the  way,  in  the  soul  of 
an  artist,  to  the  grief  of  passing  through  a  present 
darkened  and  toxn:by-Civil'.War.       ..'  •" 

For  men  of  action,  who  take,  a  personal  part 
in  politics,  there- is.  everywhere,*  under  all'  circum- 
stances, a  fever  of  hope  or  anguish,  rage  or  joy, 
the  intoxication  of  triumph,  or  the  wrath  of  defeat. 
But  for  the  poor  poet  and  for  the  idle  woman,  who 
watch  events  without  having  any  direct  and  per- 
sonal interest,  be  the  issue  of  the  struggle  what  it 
may,  there  is  a  deep  horror  of  the  blood  spilled  on 
either  side,  and  a  kind  of  despair  at  the  sight  of 

5 


oor? 


FADETTE 

the  hatred,  wrongs,  threats,  and  calumnies  which 
mount  toward  heaven  like  an  unclean  holocaust  in 
the  train  of  social  convulsions. 

At  such  a  moment  as  this,  a  genius  stormy  and 
strong  as  Dante,  writes  with  his  tears,  his  gall,  his 
nerves,  a  terrible  poem,  a  drama  all  full  of  tor- 
ments and  of  groans.  We  must  be  tempered  like 
that  soul  of  iron  and  fire,  to  fix  our  imagination 
upon  the  horrors  of  a  symbolic  hell,  when  we  have 
under  our  eyes  the  dolorous  purgatory  of  desolation 
upon  earth.  The  artist  of  our  times,  more  feeble 
and  sensitive,  who  is  but  the  reflection  and  the  echo 
of  a  generation  very  like  him,  feels  the  imperative 
need  of  looking  away,  and  of  diverting  his  imagina- 
tion, by  turning  toward  an  ideal  of  peace,  of  inno- 
cence, and  of  contemplation.  It  is  his  weakness 
that  makes  him  do  so,  but  he  has  no  cause  to  blush 
for  it,  because  it  is  also  his  duty.  In  times  when 
evil  comes  because  men  misunderstand  and  hate  one 
another,  it  is  the  mission  of  the  artist  to  praise  sweet- 
ness,, confidence,  and  friendship,  and  so  to  remind 
men,  hardened  or  discouraged,  that  pure  morals, 
tender  sentiments,  and  primitive  justice  still  exist, 
or  at  least  can  exisL  in  this  world.    Direct  allusions 

to  present   ills,  the  appeal  to  boiling  passions, — 

6 


PREFACE 

there  is  no  road  to  safety  there:  a  sweet  song,  the 
sound  of  a  rustic  pipe,  a  story  to  put  little  chil- 
dren to  sleep  without  fear  or  pain,  is  better  than 
the  spectacle  of  real  evils  deepened  and  darkened 
still  more  by  the  colors  of  fiction. 

Preaching  unity  to  men  who  are  cutting  one  an- 
other's throats,  is  crying  in  the  wilderness.  There 
are  times  when  souls  are  so  agitated  that  they  are 
deaf  to  every  direct  appeal.  Since  those  June  days 
of  which  present  events  are  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence, the  author  of  the  story  that  you  are  going 
to  read  has  undertaken  the  task  of  being  amiable 
though  he  should  die  of  chagrin.  He  has  let  his 
pastorals  be  laughed  at,  as  he  had  let  everything 
else  be  laughed  at,  without  troubling  himself  at  the 
judgments  of  a  certain  kind  of  criticism.  He  knows 
that  he  has  given  pleasure  to  those  who  love  that 
strain,  and  that  to  give  pleasure  to  them  that  suffer 
from  the  same  ill  as  he,  in  knowing  the  horror  of 
hate  and  of  revenge,  is  to  do  them  all  the  good  that 
they  can  receive  :  very  fleeting,  a  passing  relief,  it  is 
true,  but  more  real  than  a  passionate  declamation, 
and  more  impressive  than  a  classical  demonstration. 

George  Sand. 

Nohant,  the  twenty-first  of  December,  j8ji. 
7 


FADETTE 


CHAPTER  I 


FATHER  BARBEAU,  of  Cosse,  was  certainly 
comfortably  off,  for  he  was  a  member  of  the 
municipal  board  of  his  township.  His  two  fields 
provided  for  the  support  of  his  family  and  yielded 
him  profit  besides.  He  cut  full  cart-loads  of  hay 
in  his  meadows,  and  except  what  came  from  the 
borders  of  the  brook  and  was  somewhat  injured  by 
the  rushes,  it  was  known  as  the  best  fodder  in  the 
neighborhood. 

Father  Barbeau's  house  was  roofed  with  tiles,  and 
built  high  on  a  hillside  where  the  air  was  good. 
It  had  a  fruitful  garden,  and  a  vineyard  six  acres  in 
extent. 

Then,  behind  his  barn,  he  had  a  fine  orchard, 
such  as  we  call  an  ouche,  where  plums,  cherries, 

9 


FADETTE 

pears,  and  sorb-apples  grew  in  equal  profusion. 
Even  the  nut-trees  in  his  hedge-rows  were  the 
oldest  and  largest  for  two  leagues  around. 

Father  Barbeau  was  a  cheerful  and  a  good-hu- 
mored man,  very  fond  of  his  family,  without 
neglecting  the  interests  of  his  neighbors  and 
fellow-parishioners. 

He  had  three  children  already,  when  Mother 
Barbeau,  who  knew  their  means  were  enough  for 
five,  and  that  her  advancing  years  gave  her  little 
time,  determined  to  present  him  with  two  fine  boys 
at  once.  They  looked  so  much  like  each  other 
that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  distinguish  them, 
and  they  were  recognized  as  bessons, —  that  is  to 
say,  twins  exactly  alike. 

Mother  Sagette,  who  received  them  in  her  apron 
when  they  came  into  the  world,  did  not  forget  to 
make  a  little  cross  with  her  needle  on  the  arm  of 
the  first-born,  because,  as  she  used  to  say,  "one 
can  make  a  mistake  about  a  bit  of  ribbon  or  a  neck- 
lace, and  the  birthright  may  be  lost." 

"  When  the  child  grows  stronger,"  she  went  on, 
"we  must  mark  him  with  a  sign  that  will  never 
rub  off";  and  this  they  did  not  fail  to  do.  The 
elder  was  named  Sylvain,  which  soon  became  Syl- 

10 


FADETTE 

vinet,  to  distinguish  him  from  his  eldest  brother, 
who  had  acted  as  his  godfather;  and  the  younger 
was  called  Landry,  and  kept  the  name  as  he  had 
received  it  in  baptism,  because  his  uncle,  who 
was  his  godfather,  had  always,  from  his  youth  up, 
been  called  Landriche. 

Father  Barbeau  was  a  little  astonished,  when  he 
came  back  from  market,  to  see  two  tiny  heads  in 
the  cradle. 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  "  cried  he,  "that  cradle  is  too  narrow. 
To-morrow  morning  I  must  make  it  larger." 

He  was  something  of  a  carpenter,  and  though  he 
had  never  learned  the  trade,  he  had  made  half  his 
furniture  himself.  He  showed  no  further  surprise, 
and  went  to  look  after  his  wife,  who  drank  a  large 
glass  of  hot  wine,  and  felt  the  better  for  it. 

"You  do  so  much,  wife,"  he  said  to  her,  "  that 
I  should  take  courage  from  you.  Here  are  two 
more  children  to  feed,  though  we  did  not  need 
them  at  all.  That  means  that  I  must  keep  on  cul- 
tivating our  land  and  raising  our  cattle.  Don't 
worry,  I  shall  work ;  but  don't  give  me  three  the 
next  time,  for  that  would  be  too  many." 

Mother  Barbeau  began  to  cry,  and  Father  Barbeau 
was  very  sorry.     "Come,  come,"  said  he,  "you 

1 1 


FADETTE 

must  not  fret,  my  good  wife.  I  did  not  say  that  to 
reproach  you  ;  I  only  meant  to  thank  you.  Those 
two  are  fine,  well-made  children ;  there  is  not  a 
defect  on  their  bodies,  and  I  am  very  well  pleased." 

"Oh,  dear  me,"  said  his  wife;  "I  know,  mas- 
ter, very  well  that  you  are  not  finding  fault  with 
me  for  the  children  ;  but  I  am  worried  because  I 
have  heard  that  nothing  is  more  uncertain  and  dif- 
ficult to  bring  up  than  twins.  They  interfere  with 
each  other,  and  if  one  is  to  be  healthy,  the  other 
generally  dies." 

11  Really,"  said  the  father;  "  is  that  so?  As  fai 
as  I  know,  these  are  the  first  twins  that  I  have  ever 
seen.  They  do  not  come  often.  But  here  is  Mother 
Sagette,  who  knows  and  will  tell  us  all  about  it." 
So  he  called  Mother  Sagette,  who  answered : 
"  Trust  me,  those  twins  will  get  on  perfectly 
well,  and  will  be  just  as  healthy  as  other  children. 
I  have  been  a  nurse  for  fifty  years,  and  have  seen 
all  the  children  in  the  country  round  born,  and 
live  or  die  ;  so  it  is  not  the  first  time  that  I  have 
assisted  at  the  birth  of  twins.  In  the  first  place, 
they  are  none  the  worse  for  looking  alike.  Some- 
times they  have  no  more  resemblance  than  you  and 

I,  and  yet  one  is  strong  and  the  other  delicate  ;  so 

12 


FADETTE 

one  lives  and  the  other  dies.  But  look  at  yours  ! 
Each  one  is  as  fine  and  well  made  as  if  he  were  an 
only  child.  They  cannot  have  done  each  other  any 
harm  before  their  birth,  and  they  have  come  into 
the  world  without  too  much  pain  to  their  mother 
or  hurt  to  themselves.  They  are  wonderfully  pretty, 
and  mean  to  live.  So  take  heart,  Mother  Barbeau ; 
it  will  be  a  great  pleasure  for  you  to  see  them  grow 
up.  If  they  live,  you  alone,  and  those  who  see 
them  every  day,  will  be  able  to  tell  the  difference 
between  them,  for  I  never  saw  twins  so  much  alike. 
You  might  call  them  two  little  partridges  hatching 
from  the  same  egg.  They  are  so  sweet  and  so 
much  like  each  other,  that  only  the  mother  par- 
tridge can   distinguish  them." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Father  Barbeau,  scratching 
his  head.  "  But  I  have  heard  that  twins  sometimes 
grow  so  fond  of  each  other,  that  when  they  are 
separated  they  can  live  no  longer,  and  one,  at 
least,  lets  himself  pine  away  till  he  dies  of  grief." 

"That  is  perfectly  true,"  said  Mother  Sagette; 
"but  listen  to  what  an  experienced  woman  is  go- 
ing to  tell  you.  Do  not  forget  it,  for  when  your 
children  are  old  enough  to  leave  you,  perhaps  I 
shall  not  be  in  the  world  to  advise  you.     As  soon 

'3 


FADETTE 

as  the  twins  begin  to  know  each  other,  be  careful 
not  to  leave  them  always  together.  Take  one  out 
to  work,  while  the  other  is  looking  after  the  house. 
When  one  goes  fishing,  send  the  other  hunting ; 
when  one  is  tending  sheep,  let  the  other  one  take 
care  of  the  cows  in  pasture ;  when  you  give  one 
wine  to  drink,  give  the  other  a  glass  of  water ;  and 
so  on.  Don't  scold  them  or  correct  them  at  the 
same  time.  Don't  dress  them  alike  :  when  one  has 
a  hat,  let  the  other  have  a  cap ;  and  above  all, 
don't  let  their  blouses  be  the  same  blue.  In  short, 
in  every  way  that  you  can  think  of,  prevent  them 
from  becoming  too  much  alike,  and  teach  them  to 
learn  to  do  without  each  other.  I  am  very  much 
afraid  that  you  will  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  what  I  am 
saying  to  you ;  but  if  you  do,  you  will  be  very 
sorry  for  it  some  day." 

Mother  Sagette's  words  were  gold,  and  they  be- 
lieved her.  They  promised  to  do  as  she  said,  and 
they  made  her  a  handsome  present  before  they  let 
her  go.  Then,  as  she  had  strongly  advised  that 
the  twins  should  not  be  fed  with  the  same  milk, 
they  set  about  looking  up  a  nurse  at  once. 

But  there  was  not  one  to  be  found  in  the  place. 
Mother  Barbeau,  who  had  not  counted  upon  two 

M 


FADETTE 

children,  and  who  had  nursed  all  the  others  her- 
self, had  taken  no  precautions  beforehand.  Father 
Barbeau  was  obliged  to  go  off  in  search  of  a  nurse 
in  the  neighborhood.  While  he  was  gone,  the 
mother  could  not  allow  her  children  to  suffer,  and 
so  she  fed  both  from  her  own  breast. 

Our  country  people  do  not  decide  in  a  hurry, 
and  no  matter  how  rich  they  may  be,  they  must 
always  do  a  little  bargaining.  It  was  known  that 
the  Barbeau  family  could  afford  to  pay,  and  peo- 
ple thought  that  as  the  mother  was  no  longer  in 
her  first  youth,  she  could  not  nurse  two  babies 
without  injury  to  her  health.  So  all  the  nurses 
whom  Father  Barbeau  could  find,  asked  him  eigh- 
teen francs  a  month, —  neither  more  nor  less  than 
they  would  have  asked  a  bourgeois. 

Father  Barbeau  did  not  care  to  give  more  than 
twelve  or  fifteen  francs,  thinking  that  a  great  deal 
for  a  peasant.  He  tried  everywhere,  and  haggled 
a  little,  without  concluding  a  bargain.  The  matter 
was  not  very  pressing  ;  for  two  such  young  chil- 
dren could  not  exhaust  their  mother,  and  they 
were  both  so  healthy,  so  quiet,  and  cried  so  little, 
that  they  made  scarcely  more  disturbance  in  the 
house  than  a  single  child.     When  one  slept,  the 

'5 


FADETTE 

other  slept  too.  Their  father  had  arranged  the 
cradle,  and  when  they  both  cried  at  once,  they 
were  both  rocked  and  soothed  at  the  same  time. 

Finally  Father  Barbeau  struck  a  bargain  with  a 
nurse  for  fifteen  francs,  and  the  only  difficulty  lay 
in  the  gratuity  of  a  hundred  sous,  when  his  wife 
said  to  him : 

11  Nonsense,  master!  I  see  no  reason  for  spending 
a  hundred  and  eighty  to  two  hundred  francs  a  year, 
as  if  we  were  gentlemen  and  ladies,  and  as  if  I  were 
too  old  to  nurse  my  own  children.  I  have  more 
milk  than  they  need.  Our  boys  are  a  month  old 
already,  and  just  see  how  they  thrive  !  The  nurse 
Merlaude,  whom  you  want  for  one  of  them,  is  not 
half  so  strong  or  healthy  as  I  am;  her  milk  is  al- 
ready eighteen  months  old,  and  will  not  do  for 
such  a  young  child.  Mother  Sagette  told  us  not  to 
give  our  twins  the  same  milk,  so  as  to  prevent 
them  from  becoming  too  fond  of  each  other.  It  is 
true  she  said  so,  but  did  she  not  say  too  that  we 
must  take  the  same  care  of  both  ;  for,  after  all,  twins 
are  not  quite  so  strong  as  other  children  ?  I  should 
rather  have  ours  love  each  other  too  much,  than 
sacrifice  one  to  the  other.    And  then,  which  should 

we  put  out  to  nurse?  I  confess  that  I  should  be 

16 


FADETTE 

quite  as  sorry  to  part  with  one  as  the  other.  I  may 
say  that  I  have  loved  all  my  children  very  much; 
but,  somehow  or  other,  these  seem  to  me  the  dearest 
and  prettiest  that  I  have  ever  carried  in  my  arms. 
I  have  a  peculiar  love  for  them  that  always  makes 
me  afraid  of  losing  them.  Please,  husband,  do  not 
think  of  this  nurse  any  more  ;  we  shall  do  every- 
thing else  that  Mother  Sagette  recommended. 
How  can  you  expect  children  at  the  breast  to  love 
each  other  too  much,  when  they  can  hardly  tell 
their  hands  from  their  feet  when  they  are  weaned?" 

"  What  you  say  is  quite  right,"  answered  Father 
Barbeau,  looking  at  his  wife,  who  was  still  fresher 
and  stronger  than  most  women;  "  but  suppose 
that,  as  the  children  grow  bigger,  your  health 
begins  to  fail?" 

"  Do  not  worry,"  said  Mother  Barbeau ;  "  1  know 
I  have  as  good  an  appetite  as  if  I  were  fifteen  ;  and 
besides,  in  case  I  feel  worn  out,  I  promise  not  to 
hide  it  from  you,  and  there  will  always  be  time 
enough  to  send  away  one  of  these  poor  children." 

Father  Barbeau  gave  in,  the  more  easily  because 
he  did  not  care  about  any  useless  expense.  Mother 
Barbeau  nursed  her  twins  without  complaint  or 
injury  to  her  health,  and  her  constitution  was  so 

17 


FADETTE 

strong  that  two  years  after  the  twins  were  weaned 
she  gave  birth  to  a  pretty  little  girl,  whom  they 
named  Nanette,  and  whom  she  also  nursed  herself. 
But  it  was  a  little  too  much  for  her,  and  she  would 
have  found  it  hard  to  finish  her  task  if  her  eldest 
daughter,  who  happened  then  to  have  her  first 
child,  had  not  relieved  her  from  time  to  time  by 
nursing  her  little  sister. 

Thus  the  whole  family  soon  grew  and  flourished 
in  the  sun  :  the  little  uncles  and  the  little  aunts, 
with  the  little  nephews  and  the  little  nieces,  none 
of  whom  could  be  accused  of  being  more  noisy  or 
more  quiet  than  the  rest. 


18 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  twins  grew  apace,  with  no  more  ill  health 
than  other  children  ;  and  their  dispositions 
were  so  good  and  sweet  that  they  seemed  to  suffer 
less  in  teething  and  growing  than  the  rest  of  the 
little  family. 

They  were  blond,  and  remained  blond  all  their 
lives.  They  were  very  good-looking,  with  their 
great  blue  eyes,  their  well-set  shoulders,  and  their 
straight  and  firmly  knit  bodies.  They  were  taller 
and  stronger  than  boys  of  their  age,  and  all  the 
people  of  the  country-side  who  passed  through  the 
town  of  Cosse  stopped  to  look  at  them,  wondering 
at  their  resemblance  to  each  other ;  and  everybody 
went  off  saying,  "  All  the  same,  that  is  a  pretty 
pair  of  boys." 

It  was  for  this  reason  that  the  twins  early  became 
accustomed  to  stares  and  questions,  and  they  learned 
not  to  be  shamefaced  and  foolish   as   they   grew 

>9 


FADETTE 

older.  They  were  at  their  ease  with  everybody, 
and  instead  of  hiding  behind  the  bushes,  as  chil- 
dren do  with  us  whenever  they  see  a  stranger, 
they  confronted  the  first  who  came,  although 
always  very  politely,  and  answered  all  questions 
without  hanging  their  heads  or  waiting  to  be  asked 
twice.  At  first  sight,  no  one  could  tell  the  dif- 
ference between  them,  but  thought  them  as  much 
alike  as  two  peas.  After  a  few  minutes'  observation, 
however,  it  became  apparent  that  Landry  was  a 
hairbreadth  taller  and  stronger,  that  his  hair  was 
a  little  thicker,  his  nose  somewhat  more  decided, 
and  his  eye  brighter.  His  forehead,  too,  was  broader, 
and  his  manner  more  determined,  and  also  a  mark 
which  his  brother  bore  on  his  right  cheek  he  had 
intensified  on  his  left  cheek.  The  people  of 
the  district,  therefore,  distinguished  them  easily; 
but  even  they  needed  a  moment  for  recognition, 
and  at  twilight,  or  at  a  little  distance,  they 
were  almost  always  deceived,  especially  as  the 
voices  of  the  twins  were  just  alike,  and  because,  as 
the  boys  knew  that  they  might  be  taken  for  each 
other,  they  answered  to  each  other's  names  without 
taking  the  trouble  to  correct  the  mistake.  Occa- 
sionally Father  Barbeau  himself  was  confused.     As 

20 


FADETTE 

Mother  Sagette  had  prophesied,  their  mother  alone 
never  mistook  them,  whether  they  were  in  the 
dark  or  at  so  great  a  distance  that  she  could  just 
see  them  coming  or  hear  their  voices. 

In  fact,  one  was  as  good  as  the  other;  and  if 
Landry  were  a  trifle  more  light-hearted  and  high- 
spirited  than  his  elder  brother,  Sylvinet  was  so 
affectionate  and  so  quick-witted  that  it  was  im- 
possible not  to  like  him  as  well  as  Landry.  For 
three  months  the  parents  tried  to  prevent  them 
from  becoming  too  intimate.  Three  months  in 
the  country  are  considered  a  long  time  for  any- 
thing to  last  in  the  face  of  discouragement.  But 
precautions  seemed  to  be  of  no  use  ;  and,  moreover, 
the  parish  priest  said  that  Mother  Sagette  was  in 
her  dotage,  and  that  what  God  had  put  into  the 
laws  of  nature  could  not  be  undone  by  man. 
Thus,  little  by  little,  every  promise  was  forgotten. 
The  first  time  the  children  left  off  their  frocks  to 
go  to  mass  in  trousers,  they  were  dressed  in  the 
same  cloth,  because  both  suits  were  made  from 
their  mother's  petticoat,  and  the  cut  was  the  same, 
for  the  village  tailor  knew  no  other. 

When  they  grew  older   they  were  observed  to 
like  the  same  colors,  and  when  their  Aunt  Rosette 

2*  2 1 


FADETTE 

wished  to  make  each  of  them  a  present  of  a  cravat 
on  New-Year's  day,  they  both  chose  a  cravat  of  the 
same  lilac  of  the  peddler  who  hawked  his  wares 
from  door  to  door,  on  the  back  of  his  Norman 
horse.  This  aunt  asked  them  if  it  were  because 
they  wanted  always  to  be  dressed  alike.  The  twins 
did  not  look  so  far  ahead  ;  Sylvinet  answered  that 
the  cravat  was  prettier  in  color  and  pattern  than 
all  those  in  the  peddler's  pack,  and  Landry  im- 
mediately declared  that  all  the  other  cravats  were 
ugly. 

"  How  do  you  like  the  color  of  my  horse?" 
asked  the  peddler,  smiling. 

"  I  think  it  is  hideous,"  cried  Landry.  "  It  looks 
just  like  an  old  magpie." 

"As  hideous  as  it  can  be,"  said  Sylvinet.  "It 
looks  exactly  like  an  ill-plucked  magpie." 

"  You  see,"  said  the  peddler  to  the  aunt,  with  a 
shrewd  look,  "  those  children  see  things  in  the 
same  light.  If  one  takes  yellow  for  red,  the  other 
will  as  quickly  take  red  for  yellow,  and  you  must 
not  thwart  them,  because  they  say  that  when  peo- 
ple prevent  twins  from  thinking  themselves  two 
prints  from  the  same  plate,  they  become  idiots,  and 

no  longer  know  what  they  are  talking  about." 

22 


FADETTE 

The  peddler  said  this  because  his  lilac  cravats 
were  badly  dyed,  and  he  wished  to  sell  two  at 
once. 

All  this  continued  as  time  went  on,  and  the 
twins  were  dressed  so  much  alike  that  they  were 
still  more  often  mistaken  for  each  other ;  and  either 
by  childish  mischief,  or  by  the  force  of  that  law 
of  nature  which  the  priest  thought  it  impossible  to 
undo,  when  one  had  broken  the  toe  of  his  sabot, 
the  other  soon  made  a  hole  in  his  own  on  the  cor- 
responding foot;  when  one  tore  his  jacket  or  his 
cap,  without  a  moment's  delay  the  other  imitated 
the  tear  so  perfectly  that  one  mishap  seemed  to 
have  befallen  both  ;  and  then  our  twins  began  to 
laugh  and  look  slyly  innocent  when  they  were 
asked  to  explain  what  had  happened. 

For  good  or  ill,  their  love  for  each  other  in- 
creased continually  as  they  grew  older,  and  as  soon 
as  they  were  able  to  think  for  themselves,  they 
made  up  their  minds  that  neither  could  enjoy  him- 
self with  other  children  in  the  other's  absence. 
Once,  when  their  father  tried  to  keep  one  of  them 
all  day  with  him  while  the  other  stayed  with  the 
mother,  both  were  so  sad,  so  pale,  and  so  down- 
hearted at  their  work,  that  they  seemed  ill.    When 

23 


FADETTE 

they   met  in   the  evening,   they  went  along  the 

paths  together,  holding  hands,  and  did  not  want 

to  go  into  the  house,  so  delighted  were  they  to  be 

together  again,  and  because  they  were  a  little  sulky 

with  their  parents  for  having  pained  them.     This 

attempt  was  not  repeated,  for  it  must  be  admitted 

that  father  and   mother,  as  well   as   uncles   and 

aunts  and  brothers  and  sisters,  loved  the  twins  to 

the  point  of  weakness.     They  were  proud  of  them 

on  account  of  the  many  compliments  paid  them, 

and  because  they  could  certainly  not  be  called  ugly 

or  stupid  or  naughty.     From  time  to  time  Father 

Barbeau  worried  a  little  over  what  this   habit  of 

being  always  together  might  result  in  when  they 

should  be   men,  and   remembering  the  words  of 

Mother  Sagette,  he   tried  to  tease   them  so  as  to 

make  them  jealous  of  each  other.     For  example,  if 

they  got  into  mischief,  he  pulled  Sylvinet's  ears, 

saying  to  Landry:   "  This  time  I  forgive  you,  for 

you  are  generally  the  best  behaved."     But  seeing 

that  his  brother  escaped,  Sylvinet  was  consoled  for 

the  tingling  of  his  ears,  and  Landry  cried  as  if  it 

were  he  who   had  received  the  punishment.     He 

tried  also  giving  something  which  both  wished  for 

to  one  alone  ;  but  if  it  were  anything  good  to  eat, 

24 


FADETTE 

they  divided  it  immediately,  or  if  it  were  a  play- 
thing or  a  tool,  they  would  use  it  together,  or  give 
it  back  and  forth  without  distinction  of  ownership. 
If  anybody  complimented  one  on  his  conduct  with- 
out seeming  to  do  justice  to  the  other,  the  latter 
was  proud  and  happy  to  see  his  twin  petted  and 
encouraged,  and  began  to  flatter  and  caress  him 
himself.  In  short,  it  was  labor  lost  to  try  to  sepa- 
rate them  in  mind  or  body ;  and  as  it  is  hard  to  vex 
the  children  we  love,  even  for  their  good,  things 
were  soon  allowed  to  go  as  it  pleased  Heaven  ;  or 
else  this  slight  teasing  became  a  game  which  did 
not  impose  upon  the  children.  They  were  very 
sly,  and  sometimes  in  order  to  be  left  alone  they 
pretended  to  quarrel  and  fight ;  but  it  was  only  in 
fun,  and  while  rolling  about,  they  were  careful 
not  to  do  each  other  any  harm.  If  some  idle  fel- 
low were  astonished  to  see  them  fighting,  they 
would  hide  to  laugh  at  him,  and  soon  they  could 
be  heard  humming  and  chattering  like  two  black- 
birds on  a  branch. 

In  spite  of  this  great  resemblance  and  this  great 
affection,  God,  who  has  made  no  two  things  ex- 
actly alike  in  heaven  or  earth,  decreed  that  they 
should  have  a  very  different  fate;  and  so  it  was 
2? 


FADETTE 

seen  that  they  were  two  creatures  separate  in  the 
mind  of  God  and  distinct  in  their  own  natures. 

This  was  seen  only  when  it  came  to  the  test, 
and  this  happened  after  they  had  made  their  first 
communion  together.  Father  Barbeau's  family 
was  increasing,  thanks  to  his  two  eldest  daughters, 
who  had  given  birth  to  many  fine  children.  His 
eldest  son,  a  fine  handsome  fellow,  was  in  the 
army ;  his  sons-in-law  were  good  workmen,  but 
labor  was  sometimes  scarce.  We  have  had  in  our 
country  a  series  of  bad  years,  resulting  from  se- 
vere storms  as  well  as  from  business  troubles, 
which  emptied  the  pockets  of  the  country  people 
of  more  crowns  than  they  brought  back  to  them. 
So  Father  Barbeau  was  not  rich  enough  to  keep 
all  his  family  at  home,  and  he  had  to  consider  the 
question  of  putting  his  twins  out  to  work.  Father 
Caillaud,  of  the  Priche,  offered  to  let  one  drive  his 
oxen,  as  he  had  a  large  farm  to  cultivate,  and  his 
boys  were  too  old  or  too  young  for  that  kind  of 
work.  Mother  Barbeau  was  much  disturbed  and 
grieved  when  her  husband  broached  the  subject  to 
her.  It  was  just  as  if  she  had  never  foreseen  that 
such  a  misfortune  could  happen  to  her  twins,  and 

yet  she  had  worried  over  the  possibility  of  it  ever 

26 


FADETTE 

since  they  were  born  ;  but,  as  she  was  very  sub- 
missive to  her  husband,  she  had  nothing  to  say, 
On  his  side,  too,  the  father  felt  anxious,  and  ar- 
ranged everything  long  beforehand.  At  first  the 
twins  cried,  and  spent  three  days  walking  together 
through  the  woods  and  meadows;  never  seen,  ex- 
cept at  meal-time.  They  would  not  say  a  word 
to  their  parents ;  and  when  asked  if  they  had  made 
up  their  minds  to  consent,  they  did  not  answer,  but 
talked  a  great  deal  when  they  were  alone  together. 
The  first  day  they  could  do  nothing  but  weep 
and  walk  arm  in  arm,  as  if  afraid  of  being  torn 
apart  by  force.  Father  Barbeau,  however,  would 
not  have  done  this.  He  had  a  peasant's  wisdom, 
which  consists  half  of  patience  and  half  of  confi- 
dence in  what  time  can  do.  The  next  day,  when 
the  twins  saw  that  their  parents  did  not  compel 
them,  but  left  them  to  come  to  their  senses,  they 
were  more  afraid  of  their  father's  will  than  they 
would  have  been  if  he  had  threatened  to  punish 
them. 

"We  must  submit  to  it,"  said  Landry.  "And 
we  must  decide  which  of  us  is  to  go  ;  for  they  have 
left  the  choice  to  us,  and  Father  Caillaud  said  that 

he  could  not  take  us  both." 

27 


FADETTE 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  to  me  whether 
I  go  or  stay,"  said  Sylvinet,  "since  we  must  be 
separated?  Going  elsewhere  to  live  is  nothing  to 
me ;  if  I  were  going  with  you,  I  should  soon  get 
used  to  doing  without  my  home." 

11  That  is  easy  enough  to  say,"  answered  Lan- 
dry, "and  yet  the  one  who  stays  at  home  will 
have  more  to  comfort  and  less  to  vex  him  than  the 
one  who  will  never  see  his  twin,  or  his  father,  or 
his  mother,  or  his  garden,  or  his  cattle,  or  any- 
thing that  used  to  give   him   pleasure." 

Landry  spoke  firmly  enough,  but  Sylvinet  burst 
into  tears  again,  for  he  had  not  so  much  resolution 
as  his  brother,  and  the  idea  of  losing  everything 
at  once  gave  him  so  much  pain  that  he  could  not 
stop  crying. 

Landry  wept,  too,  but  not  so  much,  and  not  in 
the  same  way ;  for  he  was  thinking  of  taking  the 
greater  evil  for  himself,  and  he  wanted  to  see  how 
much  his  brother  could  bear,  so  as  to  spare  him  the 
rest.  He  knew  very  well  that  Sylvinet  was  more 
afraid  than  he  of  going  to  a  strange  place,  and  of 
living  in  a  family  other  than  his  own. 

"  See,"  said  he  to  his  brother,  "  if  we  can  make 

up  our  minds  to  live  apart,  it  is  best  for  me  to  go 

28 


FADETTE 

away.  You  know  that  I  am  a  little  stronger  than 
you,  and  when  we  are  ill,  as  generally  happens  to 
us  both  at  the  same  time,  the  fever  takes  a  firmer 
hold  on  you  than  on  me.  They  said  that  perhaps 
we  shall  die  if  we  part.  I  do  not  think  I  shall  die; 
but  I  cannot  answer  for  you,  and  that  is  why  I 
should  like  you  to  have  our  mother  to  cheer  you 
and  care  for  you.  So,  if  they  love  one  of  us  more 
than  the  other,  which  is  not  likely,  I  believe  it  is 
you  whom  they  care  for  most,  and  I  know  that  you 
are  the  most  affectionate  and  clinging.  Stay,  then, 
and  let  me  go.  We  shall  not  be  far  apart.  Father 
Caillaud's  land  is  next  to  ours,  and  we  shall  see 
each  other  every  day.  I  like  to  work,  and  that  will 
give  me  something  to  think  of,  and  as  I  am  a  better 
runner  than  you,  I  can  come  more  quickly  to  see 
you  as  soon  as  my  day's  work  is  over.  As  you  will 
not  have  much  to  do,  you  can  walk  over  to  see 
me  at  work.  I  shall  be  much  less  anxious  about 
you  than  if  you  were  away  and  I  at  home.  So  I 
ask  you  to  stay." 


2y 


CHAPTER  III 

SYLVINET  would  not  listen  to  this  ;  although 
he  had  a  more  tender  affection  than  Landry 
for  his  father,  his  mother,  and  his  little  sister  Nan- 
ette, he  shrank  from  leaving  the  burden  to  his 
dear  twin. 

When  they  had  discussed  the  matter  at  length, 
they  drew  straws,  and  the  lot  fell  on  Landry.  Syl- 
vinet  was  not  satisfied  with  the  test,  and  wished 
to  try  heads  or  tails  with  a  penny.  Three  times 
heads  came  up  for  him,  and  it  was  always  Landry's 
lot  to  go. 

11  You  see  that  it  is  the  will  of  fate,"  said  Lan- 
dry, "and  you  know  that  fate  must  not  be  con- 
tradicted." 

The  third  day,  Sylvinet  still  cried,  but  Landry 
scarcely  cried  any  more.  The  first  idea  of  going 
away  had  pained  him  perhaps  more  than  his 
brother,  because  he  was  more  conscious  of  the  de- 
mands made  on  his  own  courage,  and  because  he 

*o 


FADETTE 

could  not  forget  the  impossibility  of  resisting  his 
parents  ;  but  by  dint  of  thinking  over  his  trouble, 
he  mastered  it  sooner;  and  he  had  argued  a  great 
deal  with  himself,  whereas  Sylvinet's  extreme  dis- 
tress robbed  him  of  the  courage  necessary  for  the 
consideration  of  such  a  matter.  Landry  had  decided 
to  leave  before  Sylvinet  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
let  him  go. 

Landry,  too,  had  a  little  more  self-esteem  than 
his  brother.  They  had  been  told  so  often  that 
neither  could  be  more  than  half  a  man  if  they  did 
not  accustom  themselves  to  live  apart,  that  Landry, 
who  began  to  feel  the  pride  of  his  fourteen  years, 
wished  to  show  that  he  was  no  longer  a  child.  He 
had  always  been  the  first  to  persuade  and  influence 
his  brother,  from  the  first  time  they  had  looked 
for  bird's-nests  in  the  tree-tops  to  that  very  day. 
So  this  time,  too,  he  succeeded  in  calming  him,  and 
that  evening,  when  they  went  into  the  house,  he  told 
his  father  that  his  brother  and  he  had  agreed  to  do 
their  duty,  that  they  had  drawn  lots,  and  that  it  had 
fallen  to  him  to  drive  the  great  oxen  of  the  Priche. 

Although  they  were  now  big  and  strong,  Father 
Barbeau  took  his  twins  on  his  knee  and  spoke  to 
them  thus : 

3» 


FADETTE 

"  My  children,  I  know  by  your  submission  that 
you  have  reached  the  age  of  discretion,  and  I  am 
well  content.  Remember  that  when  children  please 
their  father  and  mother,  they  also  please  almighty 
God  in  heaven,  and  one  day  or  other  he  will  reward 
them  for  it.  I  do  not  wish  to  know  which  of  you 
yielded  first.  But  God  knows,  and  will  bless  the 
one  who  proposed  it  as  well  as  the  other  who 
consented. " 

Thereupon  he  took  his  twins  to  their  mother  to 
receive  her  praises ;  but  Mother  Barbeau  found  it  so 
hard  to  keep  back  her  tears  that  she  could  say 
nothing,  and  only  kissed  them. 

Father  Barbeau,  who  was  no  fool,  knew  very 
well  which  of  the  twins  was  the  bolder,  and  which 
was  the  most  attached  to  his  home.  He  did  not 
wish  to  let  Sylvinet's  ardor  cool,  for  he  saw  that 
Landry  had  fully  decided  to  go,  and  that  nothing 
but  his  brother's  grief  could  make  him  irresolute. 
So  he  woke  up  Landry  before  daylight,  taking 
great  care  not  to  rouse  Sylvinet,  who  slept  by  his 
side. 

u  Come,  my  boy,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice, 
"you  must  go  to  the  Priche  before  your  mother 
sees  you ;   for  you  know  how  sad  she  is,  and  we 

32 


FADETTE 

must  spare  her  a  farewell.  I  am  going  to  take  you 
to  your  new  master,  and  shall  carry  your  bundle." 

"  Shall  I  not  say  good-by  to  my  brother?"  asked 
Landry.  "  He  will  be  angry  with  me  if  I  go  with- 
out letting  him  know." 

"  If  your  brother  wakes  up  and  sees  you  going 
away,  he  will  cry  and  wake  your  mother,  and  your 
mother  will  suffer  still  more  on  account  of  your 
sorrow.  Come,  Landry,  you  are  a  brave  boy,  and 
cannot  wish  to  make  your  mother  ill.  Do  your 
whole  duty,  my  child;  go  without  making  the 
slightest  noise.  Not  later  than  this  evening,  I  shall 
bring  you  your  brother,  and,  as  to-morrow  is  Sun- 
day, you  shall  come  with  the  dawn  to  see  your 
mother." 

Landry  obeyed  bravely,  and  went  out  at  the 
door  of  the  house  without  looking  behind.  Mother 
Barbeau  was  not  so  sound  asleep  that  she  could  not 
hear  all  that  her  husband  said  to  Landry.  The  poor 
woman,  feeling  that  her  husband  was  right,  did 
not  stir,  and  merely  pulled  the  curtain  slightly 
aside  to  see  Landry  go  out.  Her  heart  was  so  full 
that  she  flung  herself  toward  the  foot  of  the  bed  to 
kiss  him,  but  she  stopped  before  the  bed  of  the 
twins,  where  Sylvinet  was  still  fast  asleep.  The 
3  33 


FADETTE 

poor  boy  had  cried  so  much  for  three  days  and 
almost  three  nights  that  he  was  exhausted  by  fa- 
tigue, and  was  even  a  little  feverish,  for  he  tossed 
back  and  forth  on  his  pillow,  sighing  deeply,  and 
moaning  in  his  sleep. 

Then  Mother  Barbeau  could  not  help  thinking, 
as  she  looked  at  the  twin  that  was  left,  that  she 
would  have  suffered  more  in  parting  with  him.  It 
is  true  that  he  was  the  more  sensitive  of  the  two, 
either  because  his  character  was  less  strong,  or  be- 
cause God  has  written  in  the  law  of  nature  that 
C when  two  people  are  joined  in  love  or  friendship, 
one  must  always  give  his  heart  more  perfectly  than 
the  other\  Father  Barbeau,  who  thought  more  of 
hard  worlc  and  high  spirit  than  he  did  of  caresses 
and  kind  attentions,  cared  a  little  the  most  for  Lan- 
dry. But  the  mother  cared  a  little  the  most  for 
Sylvinet,  who  was  the  most  attractive  and  winning. 

Then  she  began  to  look  at  the  poor  boy,  who 
was  so  pale  and  altered,  and  thought  what  a  great 
pity  it  would  be  to  put  him  out  to  service  so 
young  ;  that  her  Landry  had  more  stuff  in  him  to 
bear  trouble,  and  that,  besides,  his  love  for  his  twin 
and  his  mother  did  not  overpower  him  so  far  as  to 
endanger  his  health. 

34 


FADETTE 

11  He  is  a  child  who  has  a  great  idea  of  his  duty," 
thought  she  ;  "  yet  his  heart  must  be  a  little  hard, 
or  he  could  never  have  gone  off  like  that,  without 
a  murmur,  without  turning  his  head,  and  without 
shedding  a  single  tear.  He  would  not  have  had 
the  strength  to  go  two  steps  without  falling  on 
his  knees  to  ask  God  for  courage,  and  he  would 
have  come  to  my  bedside,  while  I  was  pretending 
to  sleep,  even  if  it  were  only  to  look  at  me  and  kiss 
the  edge  of  the  curtain.  My  Landry  is  a  real  boy; 
he  cares  only  for  life  and  bustle,  for  work  and  va- 
riety. But  this  one  has  the  heart  of  a  girl;  he  is 
so  gentle  and  sweet  that  I  cannot  help  loving  him 
as  the  apple  of  my  eye." 

Mother  Barbeau  thus  reflected  as  she  went  back 
to  her  bed  to  lie  awake,  while  Father  Barbeau  was 
taking  Landry  across  the  fields  and  meadows  toward 
the  Priche.  When  they  passed  the  brow  of  a  lit- 
tle hill,  and  could  no  longer  see  the  farm-buildings 
of  Cosse,  Landry  stopped  and  turned.  His  heart 
was  too  full  for  him  to  go  a  step  farther,  and  he 
sat  down  among  the  ferns.  His  father  pretended 
not  to  notice  him,  and  walked  straight  on.  After 
a  moment,  he  called  him  gently,  and  said  : 

"See  how  light  it  is  growing,  Landry.  We 
35 


FADETTE 

must  make  haste  if  we  mean  to  reach  the  Priche 
before  sunrise." 

Landry  got  up,  and,  as  he  had  sworn  not  to  cry 
before  his  father,  he  held  back  the  big  round  tears 
which  came  into  his  eyes.  He  made  a  motion  as 
if  he  had  dropped  his  knife,  and  he  reached  his 
destination  without  showing  his  grief,  although  it 
was  ierious  enough. 


36 


CHAPTER  IV 


WHEN  Father  Caillaud  saw  that  the  stronger 
and  more  industrious  of  the  twins  was 
given  to  him,  he  was  delighted  to  receive  him.  He 
knew  very  well  that  the  decision  could  not  have 
been  made  without  pain,  and  as  he  was  a  kind 
man,  a  good  neighbor,  and  a  great  friend  of 
Father  Barbeau,  he  did  his  best  to  please  and  en- 
courage the  young  boy.  He  ordered  soup  and 
wine  to  be  given  him,  to  raise  his  spirits;  for  it 
was  plain  to  see  that  he  was  sorrowful.  Then  he 
led  him  off  to  yoke  the  oxen,  and  showed  him  how 
to  do  it.  In  fact,  Landry  was  no  novice  at  work 
of  this  kind  ;  for  his  father  had  a  fine  pair  of  oxen, 
which  he  had  often  harnessed  and  driven  very  well. 
As  soon  as  the  child  saw  Father  Caillaud's  great 
oxen, — which  were  the  best  kept,  the  best  fed,  and 
of  the  strongest  breed  in  the  country, —  his  pride 

was  gratified  to  have  such  fine  cattle  at  the  end  of 
3*  37 


FADHTTE 

his  goad.  Then  he  was  glad  to  show  that  he  was 
neither  awkward  nor  cowardly,  and  that  he  had 
nothing  new  to  learn.  Landry's  father  was  not 
slow  to  enlarge  on  his  son's  worth,  and  when  the 
time  came  to  go  to  the  fields,  all  Father  Caillaud's 
children,  boys  and  girls,  big  and  little,  came  to 
kiss  the  twin,  and  the  youngest  girl  knotted  a 
branch  of  flowers  to  his  hat  with  ribbons,  because 
it  was  his  first  day  of  service  and  a  kind  of  gala- 
day  for  the  family  that  received  him.  Before  leav- 
ing him,  his  father  gave  him  some  advice  in  the 
presence  of  his  new  master,  and  told  him  to  please 
Father  Caillaud  in  everything,  and  to  care  for  the 
cattle  as  though  they  were  his  own.  Landry  prom- 
ised to  do  his  best,  and  went  off  to  his  plow. 

He  kept  up  a  good  face  all  day,  worked  we'l, 
and  came  back  with  a  hearty  appetite ;  for  he  had 
never  toiled  so  hard  before,  and(a  little  fatigue  is  a 
sovereign  remedy  for  sorrow.  ) 

It  was  worse,  however,  v/ith  poor  Sylvinet,  in 
the  Twinnery ;  for  you  must  know  that  the  house 
and  property  of  Father  Barbeau,  situated  in  the 
township  of  Cosse,  had  been  called  by  this  name 
since  the  birth  of  the  two  children,  and  because 
soon  after  a  servant  of  the  house  had  given  birth 


FADETTE 

to  twins,  both  girls,  who  did  not  live.  Now,  as 
peasants  are  great  lovers  of  jests  and  nicknames, 
the  house  and  land  had  acquired  the  name  of  the 
"Twinnery,"  and  wherever  Sylvinet  and  Landry 
went,  the  children  would  call  out,  "There  go  the 
twins  of  the  Twinnery  !  " 

On  that  day  there  was  sadness  at  Father  Bar- 
beau's  Twinnery.  As  soon  as  Sylvinet  woke  up 
and  did  not  see  his  brother  at  his  side,  he  guessed 
the  truth  ;  but  he  could  not  believe  than  Landry 
could  go  off  like  that  without  saying  good-by,  and 
he  was  angry  in  the  midst  of  his  grief. 

"What  have  I  done  to  him?"  said  he  to  his 
mother;  "and  how  can  I  have  offended  him?  I 
have  always  done  as  he  thought  best,  and  when  he 
advised  me  not  to  cry  before  you,  darling  mother, 
I  kept  from  crying,  although  my  heart  was  bursting. 
He  promised  me  not  to  go  away  without  giving  me 
some  more  words  of  encouragement,  and  without 
breakfasting  with  me  at  the  end  of  the  hemp-field, 
where  we  used  to  go  to  talk  and  play  together.  I 
wanted  to  do  up  his  bundle  for  him  and  give  him 
my  knife,  which  is  better  than  his.  Then  you  did 
up  his  bundle  last  night  without  telling  me  any- 
thing about  it,  mother,  and  you  knew  that  he 
39 


FADETTE 

wanted  to  go  away  without  saying  good-by  to 
me?" 

11  I  did  as  your  father  wished,"  answered  Mother 
Barbeau. 

And  she  said  all  she  could  think  of  to  console 
him.  He  would  listen  to  nothing;  and  it  was  only 
when  he  saw  that  she  too  was  crying,  that  he  began 
to  kiss  her,  to  ask  her  pardon  for  having  added  to 
her  sorrow,  and  to  promise  her  to  stay  with  her 
to  make  amends.  As  soon  as  she  had  left  him  and 
had  gone  to  attend  to  the  poultry-yard  and  the 
washing,  he  ran  off  toward  the  Priche  without  a 
thought  of  where  he  was  going,  following  his 
instinct  as  a  pigeon  follows  his  mate,  taking  no 
heed  of  his  way.  He  would  have  gone  all  the 
distance  to  the  Priche  had  he  not  met  his  father 
coming  back,  who  said,  as  he  took  him  by  the 
hand  to  lead  him  home : 

"We  shall  go  this  evening,  but  you  must  not 
interrupt  your  brother  while  he  is  at  work,  for 
that  would  not  please  his  master ;  besides,  your 
mother  is  in  trouble  at  home,  and  I  count  upon  you 
to  cheer  her." 


40 


CHAPTER  V 


SYLVINET  came  back  to  hang  on  his  mother's 
petticoats  like  a  little  child,  and  did  not  leave 
her  side  all  day  long.  He  spoke  constantly  of 
Landry,  and  was  unable  to  keep  from  thinking  of 
him  as  he  returned  to  the  nooks  and  corners  which 
they  had  frequented  together.  In  the  evening  he 
went  to  the  Priche  with  his  father,  who  wished  to 
go  with  him.  Sylvinet  was  wild  to  embrace  his 
brother,  and  he  could  not  eat  his  supper  because 
of  his  haste  to  set  off.  He  expected  Landry  to  run 
to  meet  him,  and  he  kept  thinking  that  he  saw 
him  approaching.  But,  much  as  Landry  wanted 
to  go,  he  did  not  stir.  He  dreaded  the  laughter  of 
the  young  people  of  the  Priche,  who  considered 
his  love  for  his  twin  as  a  kind  of  disease,  so  that 
Sylvinet  found  him  at  table  eating  and  drinking 
as  if  he  had  been  with  the  Caillauds  all  his  life. 
As  soon  as  Landry  saw  Sylvinet  come  in,  however, 
4» 


FADETTE 

his  heart  jumped  with  joy,  and  if  he  had  not  re- 
strained himself,  he  would  have  upset  table  and 
bench  in  his  eagerness  to  greet  his  brother ;  but  he 
did  not  dare  to  do  so,  for  his  master's  family  were 
looking  at  him  curiously,  amused  to  see  in  his  love 
a  novelty  and  a  natural  phenomenon,  as  the  village 
schoolmaster  used  to  say. 

So,  when  Sylvinet  sprang  to  him  and  cried  as  he 
kissed  him,  and  hugged  him  as  a  bird  in  its  nest 
presses  close  to  its  mate  for  warmth,  Landry  was 
vexed  because  of  the  others,  though  he  could  not 
help  being  pleased  on  his  own  account;  he  wished 
to  appear  more  rational  than  his  brother,  and  made 
him  signs  from  time  to  time  to  be  calm,  to  Syl- 
vinet's  astonishment  and  grief.  While  Father  Bar- 
beau  was  talking  and  drinking  a  glass  or  two  with 
Father  Caillaud,  the  twins  went  out  together,  as 
Landry  wished  to  show  his  affection  to  his  brother 
when  no  one  was  looking.  The  other  boys,  how- 
ever, watched  them  from  a  distance,  and  even  little 
Solange,  Father  Caillaud's  youngest  daughter,  who 
was  quite  as  mischievous  and  curious  as  a  linnet, 
followed  them  with  her  little  steps  as  far  as  the 
hazel    copse.     She    laughed   and    looked    abashed 

whenever  they  noticed  her,  because  she  kept  ex- 

42 


FADETTE 

pecting  something  extraordinary,  though  she  hardly 
knew  what  there  could  be  surprising  in  the  love 
of  two  brothers. 

Pained  as  Sylvinet  was  by  the  coolness  of  his 
brother's  welcome,  he  did  not  think  of  reproaching 
him  for  it,  so  happy  was  he  to  be  with  him.  The 
next  day,  Landry  felt  himself  his  own  master,  be- 
cause Father  Caillaud  had  excused  him  from  all  his 
duties,  and  he  set  off  so  early  in  the  morning  that 
he  expected  to  find  his  brother  in  bed.  Although 
Sylvinet  was  the  greater  sleeper  of  the  two,  he 
woke  at  the  moment  Landry  was  passing  the 
orchard  hedge,  and  ran  out  barefoot,  as  if  conscious 
of  his  twin's  approach.  For  Landry,  it  was  a  day 
of  perfect  happiness.  He  was  delighted  to  see  his 
family  and  home  again,  since  he  knew  that  he 
should  not  come  back  every  day,  and  that  he  must 
look  upon  this  pleasure  as  a  kind  of  reward.  Syl- 
vinet forgot  his  troubles  till  the  middle  of  the  day. 
At  breakfast,  he  knew  that  he  should  dine  with 
his  brother  ;  but  when  dinner  was  over,  he  re- 
membered that  supper  would  be  their  last  meal 
together,  and  he  began  to  be  disturbed  and  uneasy. 
He  spoiled  and  petted  his  brother  to  his  heart's 
content,  giving  him  the  best  of  his  food,  the  crust 
43 


FADETTE 

of  his  bread,  and  the  heart  of  his  lettuce  ;  and  then 
he  worried  over  Landry's  clothes  and  his  shoes,  as 
if  the  boy  had  a  long  journey  to  go,  and  were 
much  to  be  pitied,  never  guessing  that  he  himself 
was  the  more  unfortunate  of  the  two,  because  he 
had  the  most  to  bear. 


44 


CHAPTER   VI 


THE  week  passed  in  this  way:  Sylvinet  going 
to  see  Landry  every  day,  and  Landry  stop- 
ping with  him  a  minute  or  two  whenever  he  came 
toward  the  Twinnery.  Landry  soon  became  used 
to  his  part,  but  it  was  different  with  Sylvinet,  who 
counted  the  days  and  hours  like  a  soul  in  torment. 
Nobody  in  the  world  but  Landry  could  make  his 
brother  listen  to  reason,  and  even  his  mother 
turned  to  him  to  induce  Sylvinet  to  be  more  rea- 
sonable ;  for  the  poor  child's  trouble  increased  from 
day  to  day.  He  did  not  care  to  play  any  longer, 
and  only  worked  when  he  was  bid  ;  he  still  took 
his  little  sister  out  walking,  but  he  scarcely  spoke, 
and  never  thought  of  amusing  her,  and  only 
watched  to  prevent  her  falling  and  hurting  herself. 
The  moment  no  one  was  looking,  he  went  off  all 
alone  and  hid  where  he  could  not  be  found.  He 
scrambled  into  all  the  ditches,  hedges,  and  gullies 
4S 


FADETTE 

where  he  used  to  play  and  talk  with  Landry  ;  he  sat 
down  on  the  roots  where  they  had  sat  together, 
and  put  his  feet  in  all  the  little  brooks  where  they 
had  waded  about  like  a  pair  of  ducks;  he  was 
happy  whenever  he  found  any  twigs  which  Landry 
had  whittled  with  his  pruning-knife,  or  any  peb- 
bles which  he  had  used  as  quoits  or  as  bits  of  flint. 
He  gathered  them  together  and  hid  them  in  a  hol- 
low tree  or  under  a  brush-heap,  so  that  he  might 
take  them  out  and  look  them  over  from  time  to 
time,  as  if  they  were  things  of  value.  He  kept 
thinking  and  racking  his  brains  for  all  the  little 
memories  of  his  past  happiness.  Such  things 
would  have  meant  nothing  to  another,  but  to  him 
they  were  everything.  He  took  no  care  for  the 
future,  for  he  could  not  bear  to  think  of  a  series 
of  days  like  those  he  was  enduring.  He  thought 
only  of  the  past,  and  pined  away  in  a  continual 
reverie. 

Sometimes  he  fancied  he  saw  and  heard  his  twin, 
and  then  he  talked  to  himself  as  though  he  were 
answering  him.  Or  he  went  to  sleep  wherever  he 
happened  to  be,  and  dreamt  of  him  ;  and  when  he 
woke,  he  cried  when  he  found  himself  alone,  not 

sparing  his  tears  nor  trying  to  hold  them  back,  for 

46 


FADETTE 

he  hoped  that  fatigue  would  eventually  lessen  and 
put  an  end  to  his  grief. 

Once,  when  he  had  wandered  through  the  mea- 
dows as  far  as  the  coppice,  he  found  in  the  rivulet 
which  issues  from  the  wood  after  a  heavy  rain,  but 
which  was  now  almost  dried  up,  one  of  those  lit- 
tle mills  our  children  make,  and  which  are  so 
neatly  constructed  that  they  turn  in  the  current, 
and  sometimes  last  a  very  long  time,  until  other 
children  break  them  or  the  floods  carry  them  away. 
Sylvinet  found  this  one  whole  and  uninjured.  It 
had  been  there  more  than  two  months,  and  as  the 
place  was  unfrequented,  nobody  had  seen  or  hurt 
it.  Sylvinet  recognized  the  mill  as  the  work  of 
his  twin,  and  remembered  that  when  he  had 
made  it,  they  had  expected  to  come  back  to  see  it; 
but  they  had  not  thought  of  it  again,  and  since 
then  they  had  made  many  more  mills  in  other 
places. 

Sylvinet  was  delighted  to  find  it  again.  He  car- 
ried it  a  little  lower  down  where  the  brook  was 
still  running,  and  as  he  watched  it  turn,  he  called 
to  mind  Landry's  pleasure  when  he  set  it  in  mo- 
tion for  the  first  time.  So  he  left  it,  hoping  to 
come  back  the  next  Sunday  with  Landry  to  show 
47 


FADETTE 

him  how  well  their  mill  had  lasted  because  of  its 
solid  construction. 

But  he  could  not  help  coming  back  alone  the 
very  next  morning,  and  then  he  found  the  borders 
of  the  brook  disturbed  and  trodden  down  by  a 
herd  of  oxen  which  had  been  put  to  pasture  that 
morning  in  the  grove,  and  which  had  come  there 
to  drink.  He  went  forward  a  step  or  two,  and 
found  that  the  cattle  had  trampled  on  his  mill, 
and  had  broken  it  up,  so  that  there  was  but  little 
of  it  to  be  found.  Then  his  heart  was  heavy,  and 
he  imagined  that  some  mischance  must  have  be- 
fallen his  twin  on  that  same  day,  and  ran  as  far  as 
the  Priche  to  make  sure  that  there  was  nothing  the 
matter.  As  Sylvinet  had  noticed  that  Landry  did 
not  like  him  to  come  in  the  daytime,  lest  his 
master  should  be  provoked  by  his  waste  of  time, 
he  contented  himself  with  merely  watching  his 
brother  at  work  from  a  distance,  and  did  not  show 
himself.  He  would  have  been  ashamed  to  confess 
why  he  had  come,  and  he  went  home  without 
saying  a  word,  and  without  speaking  of  it  to  any- 
body until  long  afterward. 

He  became  pale,  slept  ill,  and  ate  hardly  at  all, 
and  his  mother  became  very  anxious,  and  did  not 


FADETTE 

know  how  to  cheer  him.  She  tried  to  take  him 
with  her  to  market,  or  sent  him  with  his  father  or 
his  uncles  to  the  cattle-fairs  ;  but  nothing  inter- 
ested him  or  amused  him,  and  Father  Barbeau, 
without  saying  anything  to  the  boy,  tried  to 
persuade  Father  Caillaud  to  take  both  twins  into 
his  service.  Father  Caillaud  answered  with  a  good 
sense  that  appealed  to  his  friend: 

"Suppose  that  1  should  take  both  for  a  time,  it 
could  not  be  for  long,  because  where  only  one 
servant  is  needed,  people  like  us  do  not  want  two. 
At  the  end  of  the  year,  in  any  case,  you  would  be 
obliged  to  hire  one  out  somewhere  else.  Do  you 
not  see,  then,  that  if  your  Sylvinet  were  in  a  place 
where  he  should  be  forced  to  work,  he  would  not 
brood  so  much,  but  would  do  like  the  other,  who 
has  borne  his  part  so  bravely  ?  Sooner  or  later  you 
must  come  to  that.  Perhaps  you  will  not  be  able 
to  place  him  as  you  like,  and  if  these  children  are 
destined  to  live  still  farther  apart,  and  only  to  see 
each  other  once  a  week,  or  once  a  month,  you 
had  better  begin  now,  to  prevent  their  becoming 
inseparable.  Be  more  prudent,  my  friend,  and  do 
not  pay  too   much  attention   to  the  caprice  of  a 

child,  who  has  been  already  too  much  petted  and 
4  49 


FADETTE 

spoiled  by  your  wife  and  your  other  children.  The 
worst  is  over,  and  if  you  do  not  yield,  you  may 
be  sure  that  he  will  come  round." 

Father  Barbeau  approved,  and  understood  that 
the  more  Sylvinet  saw  of  his  twin,  the  more  he 
would  want  to  see  him.  He  therefore  decided  to 
find  a  place  for  him  by  St.  John's  day,  so  that  he 
should  see  Landry  less  and  less,  and  learn  in  the 
end  to  love  like  other  people,  and  not  to  allow 
himself  to  be  carried  away  by  an  affection  so  ex- 
treme as  to  result  in  fever  and  weakness. 

He  could  not  speak  of  it  yet  to  Mother  Barbeau, 
for  at  the  first  word  she  shed  floods  of  tears.  She 
insisted  that  Sylvinet  might  die,  and  Father  Bar- 
beau was  greatly  perplexed.  Landry,  by  the  advice 
of  his  father,  his  master,  and  his  mother,  did  not 
fail  to  use  his  infl  lence  with  his  poor  twin ;  Syl- 
vinet offered  no  resistance,  promised  all  that  was 
asked  of  him,  and  yet  he  could  not  control  himself. 
There  was  something  else  in  his  trouble  which  he 
would  not  tell,  because  he  could  not  bring  himself 
to  speak  of  it.  A  terrible  jealousy  on  account  of 
Landry  had  sprung  up  deep  down  in  his  heart. 
He  was  happy  —  happier  than  he  had  ever  been  — 

to  see  that  everybody  esteemed  his  brother,  and  that 

50 


FADETTE 

his  new  master  treated  him  as  affectionately  as  if 
he  were  a  child  of  the  house.  Still,  if  in  one  way 
it  delighted  him,  in  another  he  was  pained  and 
troubled  to  see  Landry  respond  too  strongly,  as  he 
thought,  to  these  new  ties.  It  hurt  his  feelings 
when  the  slightest  and  gentlest  word  from  Father 
Caillaud  sent  Landry  running  off  against  his  will, 
leaving  father,  mother,  and  brother  ;  more  afraid 
of  failing  in  duty  than  in  friendship,  and  more 
prompt  to  obey  than  Sylvinet  could  ever  have  been 
when  he  might  have  stayed  a  few  moments  longer 
with  a  brother  so  much  beloved. 

Then  the  poor  child  was  pained  as  he  had  never 
been  pained  before,  for  he  thought  that  the  love 
was  all  on  his  side,  and  that  his  affection  was  ill 
returned  ;  that  this  state  of  things  must  have 
existed  from  the  beginning,  without  his  knowing 
it ;  or  that  for  some  time  the  love  of  his  twin  for 
him  had  cooled,  because  he  had  met  elsewhere 
more  congenial  or  more  agreeable  people. 


5J 


CHAPTER  VII 


LANDRY  never  dreamed  of  his  brother's  jeal- 
_j  ousy,  for  it  had  never  been  in  his  charac- 
ter to  be  jealous  himself.  When  Sylvinet  came  to 
see  him  at  the  Priche,  Landry  amused  him  by 
taking  him  to  see  the  great  oxen,  the  sleek  cows, 
the  well-ordered  sheepfold,  and  the  abundant  crops 
of  Father  Caillaud's  farm ;  for  Landry  felt  the  value 
of  all  these  things,  not  because  he  was  envious, 
but  because  he  had  a  genuine  taste  for  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  earth,  for  the  herding  of  cattle,  and 
for  the  very  best  disposition  of  everything  on  the 
farm.  He  took  pleasure  in  seeing  that  the  colt  he 
drove  to  pasture  was  fat,  clean,  and  glossy,  and 
he  could  not  bear  the  least  imperfection  in  his 
work,  or  that  any  of  the  good  gifts  of  God,  capable 
of  living  and  increasing,  should  be  forsaken,  neg- 
lected, and  almost  despised.  Sylvinet  looked  at  all 
this  with  indifference,  and  was  surprised  that  things 

52 


FADETTE 

for  which  he  did  not  care  were  of  so  much  interest 
to  his  brother.  He  took  offense  at  everything,  and 
said  to  Landry  : 

"  You  are  very  much  in  love  with  these  great 
oxen,  but  you  do  not  think  any  longer  of  our 
bullocks  which  are  so  full  of  spirit  and  yet  so 
tame  and  gentle  that  they  were  more  willing  to  be 
yoked  by  you  than  by  our  father.  You  have  not 
even  asked  me  for  news  of  our  cow  that  gives  such 
good  milk,  and  that  looks  at  me  so  sadly,  poor 
creature,  when  I  feed  her,  just  as  if  she  understood 
how  lonely  I  am,  and  as  if  she  wished  to  ask  me 
where  my  twin  is." 

"  It  is  true  that  she  is  a  good  cow,"  said  Landry ; 
"but  just  look  at  these!  When  they  are  milked, 
you  will  say  that  you  have  never  seen  so  much 
milk  at  once  in  your  life." 

"That  may  be,"  answered  Sylvinet,  "  but  I  bet 
that  the  milk  and  cream  they  give  are  not  so  rich 
as  Brunette's  milk  and  cream,  for  the  pasturage  at 
the  Twinnery  is  better  than  that  over  here." 

"  The  deuce !  "  said  Landry.  "Do  you  not  suppose 

that  my  father  would  be  glad  to  exchange,  if  he 

could  have  Father  Caillaud's  great  hay-fields  instead 

of  his  rush-field  by  the  water  ?  " 
4*  53 


FADETTE 

"  Nonsense !  "  answered  Sylvinet,  shrugging  his 
shoulders;  "there  are  trees  in  the  rush-field  finer 
than  any  you  have,  and  as  to  the  hay,  though 
there  is  not  much  of  it,  it  is  very  choice,  and  when 
they  bring  it  home,  it  leaves  a  trail  of  perfume  all 
along  the  way.  " 

Thus  they  disputed  over  their  little  nothings,  for 
Landry  knew  that  nothing  is  better  than  what  one 
actually  possesses,  and  Sylvinet  did  not  think  of 
his  own  belongings  more  than  those  of  other 
people  when  he  underrated  those  of  the  Priche ; 
but  beneath  all  these  light  words,  one  of  the  chil- 
dren was  happy  to  work  and  live,  no  matter  where 
or  how,  and  the  other  was  not  able  to  understand 
that  his  brother  could  have  a  moment's  ease  and 
comfort  apart  from  him. 

When  Landry  took  him  into  his  master's  garden, 
and  happened  to  stop  talking  in  order  to  cut  off 
a  dead  branch  from  a  grafted  tree,  or  to  pull  up  a 
weed  which  interfered  with  the  vegetables,  it  vexed 
Sylvinet  to  have  him  always  intent  on  keeping 
order,  instead  of  being  on  the  watch  like  himself 
for  the  reast  breath  or  syllable  from  his  brother. 
He  let  nothing  of  this  appear,  because  he  was 
ashamed    that    his   feelings   should    be    so    easily 

54 


FADETTE 

hurt ;  but,  as  he  was  going  away,  he  would  often 
say  : 

"Well,  you  have  had  enough  of  me  to-day, 
perhaps  too  much  ;  it  may  be  that  you  are  bored 
by  seeing  me  here." 

Landry  did  not  understand  such  speeches,  but 
they  pained  him,  and  in  his  turn  he  reproached 
his  brother,  who  neither  could  nor  would  explain 
himself. 

If  the  poor  child  were  jealous  of  the  least  thing 
which  interested  Landry,  he  was  still  more  so  of 
the  people  for  whom  Landry  showed  affection. 
He  could  not  bear  to  have  Landry  friendly  and  good- 
natured  with  the  other  boys  at  the  Priche,  and 
when  he  saw  him  taking  care  of  little  Solange, 
petting  or  amusing  her,  he  accused  him  of  forgetting 
his  little  sister  Nanette,  who  was  to  his  thinking  a 
hundred  times  more  attractive  and  sweet-tempered 
than  that  horrid  little  girl. 

(  No  one  is  just  when  jealousy  gnaws  at  his  heart  ) 
When  Landry  came  to  the  Twinnery,  Sylvinet 
thought  him  too  much  engrossed  by  his  little 
sister,  and  told  him  reproachfully  that  he  paid 
attention  only  to  her,  and  that  toward  him  he 
showed   but  weariness  and  indifference. 

55 


FADETTE 

Finally  his  affection  became  so  exacting  and  his 
temper  so  melancholy,  that  little  by  little  Landry 
began  to  suffer  from  it,  and  to  take  small  pleasure 
in  seeing  him  so  often.  He  was  annoyed  by  per- 
petual reproaches  for  having  accepted  his  lot  as  he 
had  done,  and  it  was  plain  that  Sylvinet  would  be 
less  unhappy  could  he  make  his  brother  as  un- 
happy as  himself.  Landry  understood,  and  tried 
to  make  his  brother  understand,  thatflove,  by  its 
very  strength,  can  sometimes  become  an  evilA 
Sylvinet  would  not  hear  of  it,  and  even  thought 
his  brother  very  unkind  for  speaking  so;  and  thus 
it  happened  that  he  sulked  from  time  to  time,  and 
Spent  whole  weeks  away  from  the  Priche,  although 
he  was  dying  to  go  there,  keeping  at  home,  and 
putting  forth  all  his  pride  where  it  was  most  out 
of  place. 

It  came  to  pass  that  by  reason  of  disputes  and 
quarrels,  Sylvinet  constantly  misconstrued  Landry's 
wisest  and  most  sincere  assurances,  and  so  poor 
Sylvinet  grew  so  pained  that  sometimes  he  thought 
he  hated  this  brother  whom  he  loved  so  tenderly. 
He  even  left  the  house  one  Sunday  morning,  to 
avoid  spending  the  day  with  Landry,  who  had  not 
once  missed  coming. 

56 


FADETTE 

This  childish  humor  grieved  Landry  very  much. 
He  loved  pleasure  and  frolics,  for  he  was  grow- 
ing stronger  and  more  independent.  He  was  first 
in  every  game,  more  agile  in  body  and  with  a 
keener  eye  than  his  companions.  It  was  really 
a  sacrifice  on  his  brother's  behalf  to  leave  the  jolly 
boys  of  the  Priche  every  Sunday  and  spend  the 
day  at  the  Twinnery  with  Sylvinet,  who  would 
not  hear  of  playing  in  the  public  square  or  of  going 
out  anywhere  to  walk.  Sylvinet,  who  had  re- 
mained much  more  of  a  child  in  body  and  mind 
than  his  brother,  and  whose  sole  idea  was  to  love 
him  and  to  be  loved  by  him  in  return,  wished  to 
take  him  alone  to  their  haunts,  as  he  called  them  : 
to  the  nooks  and  hiding-places  where  they  used  to 
play  at  games  now  no  longer  suited  to  their  years  ; 
perhaps  it  was  to  make  little  wicker  wheelbarrows, 
or  mills,  or  snares  to  catch  birds;  or  it  might 
be  houses  of  pebbles,  or  fields  the  size  of  a 
pocket-handkerchief,  which  children  pretend  to 
cultivate  in  various  ways,  making  little  imitations 
of  everything  they  see  done  by  the  ploughmen, 
sowers,  harrowers,  weeders,  and  reapers,  thus  learn- 
ing in  an  hour  all  the  good  the  earth  gives  and  re- 
ceives in  the  course  of  the  year. 

57 


FADETTE 

Such  amusements  as  these  were  no  longer  to 
Landry's  taste,  now  that  he  practised  these  things, 
or  helped  to  practise  them,  on  a  large  scale,  and 
preferred  driving  a  large  cart  with  six  oxen  to  tying 
a  little  wagon  made  of  branches  to  his  dog's  tail. 
He  would  rather  have  tried  his  skill  at  skittles 
with  the  big  boys  of  the  neighborhood,  now  that 
he  had  become  expert  in  lifting  the  great  ball  and 
rolling  it  with  perfect  accuracy  at  thirty  paces. 
When  Sylvinet  consented  to  go  too,  instead  of 
playing,  he  would  stay  in  a  corner  without  saying 
a  word,  determined  to  be  bored  and  tormented  if 
Landry  seemed  to  take  too  much  pleasure  and  zest 
in  the  game. 

In  addition,  Landry  had  learned  to  dance  at  the 
Priche  ;  and  although  he  had  acquired  this  taste 
late,  because  Sylvinet  had  never  had  it,  he  already 
danced  as  well  as  those  who  take  to  it  as  soon  as 
they  can  walk.  People  considered  him  a  good 
dancer  at  the  bourree;  and  though  as  yet  it  gave 
him  no  particular  pleasure  to  kiss  the  girls,  as  it  is 
customary  to  do  in  every  figure,  still  he  was  glad  to 
kiss  them,  because  it  looked  as  if  he  were  grown 
up,  and  he  even  wished  them  to  make  a  little  fuss 
about  it,  as  they  do  with  men.     They  did  not,  as 

58 


FADETTE 

yet,  and  the  biggest  even  laughed  and  threw  their 
arms  round  his  neck,  much  to  his  annoyance. 

Sylvinet  had  seen  him  dance  once,  and  that  had 
been  the  cause  of  one  of  his  worst  tantrums.  He 
had  felt  so  angry  to  see  his  brother  kiss  one  of 
Father  Caillaud's  daughters,  that  he  had  cried  with 
jealousy,  and  thought  it  quite  indecent  and  out- 
landish. 

Thus  every  time  Landry  sacrificed  his  pleasure 
to  his  brother's  love  for  him,  he  did  not  pass  a 
very  amusing  Sunday  ;  yet  he  had  never  failed  to 
go,  believing  that  Sylvinet  would  be  grateful,  and 
not  grudging  a  tiresome  day,  if  it  were  to  please 
his  brother. 

When  he  found  that  his  brother,  who  had  sought 
a  quarrel  with  him  during  the  week,  had  gone 
away  from  home  in  order  to  avoid  a  reconciliation 
with  him,  he  was  grieved  in  his  turn,  and  for  the 
first  time  since  he  had  left  his  family  he  shed  big 
tears,  and  went  off  and  hid;  for  he  was  ashamed  of 
showing  his  sorrow  to  his  parents,  and  afraid  of 
increasing  theirs. 

If  anybody  had  the  right  to  be  jealous,  it  was 


Landry  far  more  than  Sylvinet.  Their  mother  loved 


Sylvinet  the  best,  and  Father  Barbeau,  too,  although 

59 


FADETTE 

he  secretly  preferred  Landry,  showed  more  tender- 
ness and  consideration  for  Sylvinet.  As  the  poor 
child  was  less  strong  and  sensible,  he  was  the  more 
spoiled,  and  people  were  more  careful  not  to  hurt 
his  feelings.  His  lot  was  the  easier  because  he  was 
with  his  family,  and  because  his  brother's  sacrifice 
saved  him  from  exile  and  sorrow. 

For  the  first  time  our  Landry  argued  in  this  way, 
and  decided  that  his  twin  was  entirely  unjust  toward 
him.  Until  now  his  warm  heart  had  prevented 
him  from  blaming  Sylvinet,  and  rather  than  find 
fault  with  him  he  had  accused  himself  of  supera- 
bundant health,  of  too  much  zeal  at  work  and  play, 
and  of  a  want  of  the  sweet  words  and  delicate  at- 
tentions his  brother  knew.  This  time,  however, 
he  could  detect  in  himself  no  offense  against  their 
friendship ;  for  that  very  day,  in  order  to  come 
home,  he  had  given  up  a  delightful  expedition  after 
crabs,  which  the  boys  of  the  Priche  had  been  plan- 
ning all  the  week,  and  which  they  had  assured  him 
he  would  enjoy  very  much  if  he  would  consent  to 
go  with  them.  Thus  he  had  resisted  a  great  temp- 
tation, and  at  his  age  that  is  a  great  deal.  After  he 
had  cried  a  long  time,  he  stopped  to  listen  to  some- 
body who  was  also  crying  at  no  great  distance,  and 

60 


FADETTE 

who  was  talking  to  herself  as  our  peasant  women 
do  when  they  are  in  great  distress.  Landry  knew 
immediately  that  it  was  his  mother,  and  ran  to  her. 

"O  my  God!"  said  she  between  her  sobs. 
"  Must  I  suffer  so  much  for  this  child's  sake?  He 
will  surely  kill  me." 

"Is  it  I,  mother,  who  make  you  suffer?"  cried 
Landry,  throwing  his  arms  about  her  neck.  "  If 
it  is  I,  punish  me,  but  do  not  cry.  I  do  not  know 
how  I  can  have  grieved  you,  but  I  beg  you  to  for- 
give me  all  the  same." 

Then  his  mother  felt  that  Landry's  heart  was 
not  so  hard  as  she  had  often  supposed.  She  pressed 
him  closely  to  her,  and  without  knowing  exactly 
what  she  was  saying,  because  of  her  trouble,  she 
told  him  that  it  was  Sylvinet,  and  not  he,  who 
grieved  her ;  that  although  she  had  sometimes 
thought  unjustly  of  him,  she  would  now  make 
amends  for  it ;  but  that  she  feared  Sylvinet  was  los- 
ing his  mind,  and  that  she  was  very  anxious,  as  he 
had  gone  off  before  daylight  without  eating  any- 
thing. The  sun  was  going  down,  and  he  had  not 
come  home.  He  had  been  seen  at  noon  near  the 
river,  and  Mother  Barbeau  began  to  think  that  he 
had  thrown  himself  in  to  end  his  life. 

61 


CHAPTER    VIII 


OTH  E  R  BARBEAU'S  idea  that  Sylvinet  might 
have  wished  to  die  rushed  into  Landry's 
mind  as  a  fly  into  a  spider's  web,  and  he  dashed 
off  to  look  for  his  brother.  Fears  crowded  upon 
him  as  he  ran,  and  he  said  to  himself:  "Perhaps 
my  mother  was  right  when  she  used  to  call  me 
hard-hearted  ;  but  surely  Sylvinet  is  so,  too,  now 
that  he  gives  so  much  anxiety  to  our  poor  mother 
and  to  me." 

He  ran  this  way  and  that  without  finding  him ; 
he  called  without  receiving  an  answer,  and  asked 
everybody  for  news,  but  in  vain.  At  last  he  came 
to  the  rush-field,  where  he  turned  in,  knowing  that 
in  that  direction  lay  one  of  Sylvinet's  favorite 
haunts.  It  was  a  large  hollow  which  the  river  had 
worn  away  by  tearing  up  two  or  three  alder-trees, 
which  still  lay,  root  uppermost,  across  the  stream. 
Father  Barbeau  had  never  cared  to  carry  them  off. 

62 


FADETTE 

He  had  left  them  because,  owing  to  the  manner  in 
which  they  had  fallen,  they  still  kept  back  the 
earth,  which  was  held  in  place  by  the  strong  vines 
interlaced  among  the  roots  ;  and  this  was  very  for- 
tunate, because  every  winter  the  water  made  havoc 
in  his  rush-field,  and  every  year  ate  away  a  piece 
of  his  meadow. 

Landry  then  approached  the  hollow,  for  so  the 
brothers  called  that  part  of  the  rush-field.  He  did 
not  take  time  to  go  as  far  as  the  corner,  where 
there  was  a  little  stairway  which  they  had  once 
built  of  bits  of  turf  supported  by  stones  and  large 
roots  which  protruded  from  the  ground  and  struck 
out  fresh  shoots.  He  jumped  down  as  far  as  he 
could  in  his  haste  to  reach  the  bottom  of  the  hol- 
low, for  the  bushes  and  grass  along  the  bank  of  the 
stream  were  so  much  taller  than  he,  that  even  if 
his  brother  had  been  there  he  could  not  have  seen 
him  from  above. 

He  reached  the  spot,  full  of  emotion,  remember- 
ing how  his  mother  had  told  him  that  Sylvinet  was 
in  danger  of  putting  an  end  to  himself.  He  went 
to  and  fro  among  the  bushes,  beating  the  grass, 
calling  to  Sylvinet,  and  whistling  to  the  dog,  which 
had  doubtless  followed  him,  as  all  day  no  one  at 
6? 


FADETTE 

the  house  had  seen  any  more  of  him  than  of  his 
young  master. 

But  call  and  shout  as  he  would,  Landry  could 
find  no  one  else  in  the  hollow.  As  he  was  a  boy 
accustomed  to  do  everything  thoroughly  and  to 
think  of  every  expedient,  he  examined  both  banks  to 
see  whether  he  could  not  find  a  footprint  or  any 
worn  spot  in  the  earth  which  had  not  been  there 
before.  The  search  was  anxious  and  troublesome 
as  well,  for  Landry  had  not  seen  the  place  for  about 
a  month  ;  and  although  he  knew  it  as  he  did  his 
right  hand,  it  was  impossible  that  there  should  not 
be  some  little  change. 

The  entire  right  bank  was  covered  with  turf, 
and,  in  like  manner,  at  the  bottom  of  the  hollow, 
the  rushes  and  the  coarse  grass  had  grown  so  thick- 
ly that  there  was  no  room  to  look  for  a  footprint. 
After  a  long  search  Landry  succeeded  in  finding  in 
a  remote  corner  the  trail  of  the  dog,  and  even  one 
spot  where  the  grass  was  trampled  down,  as  if 
Finot  or  some  other  dog  of  the  same  size  had  curled 
himself  up  there. 

This  was  a  clew,  and  he  examined  the  river's 
bank  a  second  time.  He  thought  he  saw  a  fresh 
break,  as  if  somebody  had  made  it  with  his  foot, 

64 


FADETTE 
I 

by  jumping  or  sliding ;  and,  although  he  could  not 

be  sure,  because  it  might  just  as  well  have  been 

the  work  of  the  water-rats,  which  scratch,  dig,  and 

gnaw  in  such  places,  he  was  nevertheless  so  much 

troubled  that  his  legs  gave  way  under  him,  and  he 

sank  on  his  knees  as  if  to  pray. 

He  did  not  move  for  some  time,  not  having  the 
strength  or  courage  to  go  and  tell  anybody  the 
cause  of  his  anguish,  watching  the  river  through 
his  tears,  as  if  he  wished  to  call  it  to  account  for 
his  brother's  fate. 

And  all  the  while  the  river  ran  quietly  on,  rip- 
pling over  the  branches  which  overhung  the  banks 
and  trailed  in  the  water,  pursuing  its  way  through 
the  fields  like  one  who  mocks  and  laughs  in  his 
sleeve. 

Poor  Landry  allowed  his  forebodings  to  take  pos- 
session of  him  so  completely  that  he  lost  his  head, 
and  from  a  reality  so  slight  that  it  might  mean  no- 
thing, he  created  a  misfortune  which  drove  him  to 
despair. 

4 '  This  wicked  river,  which  will  not  answer  me," 

he  thought,  "  and  which  would  let  me  cry  a  year 

without  giving  me  back  my  brother,  is  deepest  in 

this  very  place;  and  since  it  overflowed  the  meadow, 

5  65 


FADETTE 

ft  is  so  full  of  rubbish  that  no  one  who  falls  in  can 
ever  get  out  again.  O  my  God !  can  it  be  that 
my  poor  twin  is  there,  underneath  the  water,  lying 
scarcely  two  feet  off  where  I  could  neither  see  nor 
find  him,  among  the  branches  and  reeds,  even  if  I 
should  jump  in  myself?" 

Thereupon  he  began  to  weep  for  his  brother, 
and  to  reproach  him  ;  for  never  in  his  life  had  he 
been  so  unhappy. 

At  last  it  occurred  to  him  to  consult  a  widow, 
by  name  Mother  Fadet,  who  lived  at  the  end  of 
the  rush-field,  close  by  the  path  which  goes  down 
to  the  ford.  This  woman,  although  she  had  neither 
land  nor  goods,  except  her  little  house  and  garden, 
was  never  in  want;  for  she  had  great  knowledge 
concerning  all  the  evils  and  sorrows  of  the  world, 
and  from  every  side  people  came  to  consult  her. 
She  made  cures  by  a  bidden  art — that  is  to  say,  she 
healed  wounds,  bruises,  and  other  injuries  by 
means  of  her  secret.  She  imposed  a  little  upon 
others,  for  she  would  cure  you  of  diseases  which 
you  had  never  had,  such  as  the  dislocation  of  the 
stomach  or  the  rupture  of  the  abdominal  wall ;  and 
for  my  part,  I  have  never  quite  believed  in  such 
accidents,  anymore  than  I  can  give  entire  credence 

66 


FADETTE 

to  her  reputed  power  of  transferring  the  milk  of 
a  good  cow  into  a  bad  one,  however  old  and  ill-fed. 

But  she  had  remedies  that  were  really  good 
against  chills,  and  plasters  excellent  in  case  of  cuts 
and  burns,  and  sure  potions  to  check  fever;  and 
certain  it  is  that  she  earned  her  money  deservedly, 
and  that  she  cured  a  great  many  sick  people  whom 
the  doctors  would  have  killed  had  they  been  al- 
lowed to  physic  them.  At  least  she  said  so  herself, 
and  those  she  had  saved  liked  better  to  believe  her 
than  to  venture  a  doubt  on  the  subject. 

Since,  in  the  country,  one  cannot  be  thought 
wise  without  some  reputation  for  sorcery,  many 
people  believed  that  Mother  Fadet  knew  much 
more  than  she  cared  to  confess,  and  they  attributed 
to  her  the  power  of  finding  lost  objects,  and  lost 
persons  as  well;  in  short,  because  she  had  much 
wit  and  wisdom  to  help  people  out  of  trouble  in 
things  which  are  possible,  they  inferred  that  she 
could  not  fail  them  in  things  which  are  impossible. 

Children  listen  eagerly  to  all  sorts  of  stories,  and 
Landry  had  heard  at  the  Priche,  where  everybody 
is  notoriously  more  credulous  and  simple  than  at 
Cosse,  that  Mother  Fadet  could  discover  the  body 
of  a  drowned  person  by  means  of  a  certain  grain 
67 


FADETTE 

which  she  threw  into  the  water  with  an  incan- 
tation. The  grain  remained  on  the  surface  and 
floated  along  the  water,  and  beneath  the  spot  where 
it  stopped  the  poor  body  was  sure  to  be  found. 
There  are  many  who  think  that  holy  bread  has 
the  same  virtue,  and  some  of  it  is  kept  at  every 
mill  for  that  purpose.  But  Landry  had  none ; 
Mother  Fadet  lived  hard  by  the  rush-field,  and 
grief  scarcely  allows  time  for  reflection. 

So  he  set  off  running  to  Mother  Fadet's  dwelling, 
and  began  to  tell  her  his  trouble,  imploring  her  to 
go  with  him  as  far  as  the  hollow,  and  make  use 
of  her  art  to  restore  his  brother,  alive  or  dead. 

Mother  Fadet  did  not  like  to  see  her  reputation 
in  advance  of  her  art,  and,  reluctant  to  give  her 
advice  for  nothing,  laughed  at  him  and  sent  him 
away  crossly  enough  ;  for  she  was  angry  that  in 
former  times  Mother  Sagette  had  been  employed 
as  nurse  in  her  place  when  the  children  were  born 
at  the  Twinnery. 

Landry,  who  was  a  little  proud  by  nature,  at  any 
other  time  would  have  been  irritated,  and  would 
have  answered  angrily  ;  but  he  was  so  overcome 
that  he  returned  to  the  hollow  without  a  word, 
determined  to  jump  into  the  water,  although  he  had 

68 


FADETTE 

not  as  yet  learned  to  dive  or  swim.  As  he  walked 
along,  hanging  his  head  and  with  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground,  he  felt  a  light  tap  on  his  shoulder, 
and,  turning  round,  he  saw  Mother  Fadet's  grand- 
daughter, who  was  known  in  the  country-side  as 
little  Fadette,  quite  as  much  because  she  was  a 
little  witch  herself  as  because  of  her  family  name. 
Everybody  knows  that  what  we  call  the  fadet  or 
the  farfadet,  and  what  other  people  call  the  will-o'- 
the-wisp,  is  a  very  kindly  sprite,  though  sometimes 
a  little  mischievous.  The  fairies,  too,  which  no  one 
believes  in  nowadays,  in  our  part  of  the  country 
are  called  fades.  Whether  they  meant  a  little  fairy 
or  a  girl-sprite,  everybody  who  saw  Fadette  thought 
her  the  will-o'-the-wisp,  so  small  was  she,  so  thin, 
so  dishevelled,  and  so  bold.  She  was  a  very  talk- 
ative and  sarcastic  child,  lively  as  a  butterfly,  in- 
quisitive as  a  robin-redbreast,  and  brown  as  a 
cricket. 

When  I  compare  little  Fadette  to  a  cricket,  it  is 
to  let  you  know  that  she  was  not  beautiful ;  for 
this  poor  little  chirper  of  the  fields  is  yet  more 
ugly  than  its  brother  of  the  hearth.  However,  if 
you  remember  how  you  played  with  it  as  a  child 
and  made  it  chirrup  angrily  in  your  sabot,  you  must 
s*  69 


FADETTE 

know  that  its  little  face  is  not  without  interest, 
and  that  it  is  more  apt  to  amuse  than  to  vex  you  ; 
so  the  children  of  Cosse,  who  are  no  more  stu- 
pid than  other  children,  and  who  are  quite  as 
quick  to  notice  resemblances  and  make  comparisons, 
called  little  Fadette  the  "Cricket"  when  they  wished 
to  irritate  her,  and  also  as  a  term  of  endearment; 
for,  although  they  feared  her  somewhat  on  account 
of  her  capacity  for  mischief,  they  did  not  dislike 
her,  as  she  told  them  all  kinds  of  stories,  and  con- 
stantly taught  them  new  games  that  she  had  had 
the  wit  to  invent. 

Among  all  these  names  and  nicknames,  I  have 
almost  forgotten  the  one  which  she  had  received  in 
baptism,  and  which  perhaps  later  you  may  be  desirous 
of  knowing, —  this  was  Francoise,  and  so  her  grand- 
mother, who  never  liked  to  change  names,  called 
her  Fanchon. 

As  there  was  a  quarrel  of  long  standing  between 
the  people  of  the  Twinnery  and  Mother  Fadet,  the 
twins  never  talked  much  to  little  Fadette,  and  had 
even  a  kind  of  aversion  to  her,  never  liking  to  play 
with  her  or  her  little  brother,  whom  they  called 
the  "  Grasshopper."  This  child  was  still  thinner 
and  more  mischievous  than  his  sister,  always  at  her 

70 


FADETTE 

side,  storming  when  she  ran  off  without  waiting 
for  him,  throwing  stones  at  her  whenever  she 
teased  him,  flying  into  greater  passions  than  his 
size  could  warrant,  and  angering  her  in  spite  of 
herself;  for  she  was  of  a  happy  disposition,  and 
inclined  to  laugh  at  everything.  There  were 
such  stories  rife  concerning  Mother  Fadet  that 
some  people,  and  especially  those  of  Father  Bar- 
beau's  household,  thought  the  "Cricket"  and  the 
"  Grasshopper"  would  bring  them  ill-luck  if  they 
came  to  know  them.  This  did  not  prevent  the 
two  children  from  speaking  to  the  Barbeau  family ; 
for  they  were  not  shy,  and  little  Fadette  never 
failed  to  greet  the  "twins  of  the  Twinnery"  with  all 
sorts  of  fun  and  nonsense  whenever  she  saw  them 
coming  in  the  distance. 


7» 


CHAPTER  IX 


SO  poor  Landry,  who  was  a  little  annoyed  by 
the  tap  on  his  shoulder,  turned  round  and 
saw  little  Fadette,  and  Jeanet  the  Grasshopper  not 
far  behind  her,  limping  along  ;  for  he  was  ill-made 
and  bow-legged  from  his  birth. 

At  first  Landry  would  pay  no  attention  to  her, 
but  kept  right  on,  for  he  was  in  no  laughing  humor ; 
but  Fadette  said  to  him,  tapping  his  other  shoulder : 

"Wolf,  wolf!  You  naughty  twin,  only  half  a 
boy  ;  you  have  lost  your  other  half." 

Thereupon  Landry,  who  was  no  more  in  the 
mood  to  be  insulted  than  to  be  teased,  turned  on 
little  Fadette  and  struck  out  a  blow  with  his  fist, 
which  would  have  hurt  her  severely  had  she  not 
dodged  it ;  for  he  was  nearly  fifteen,  and  no  weak- 
ling, and  she,  though  nearly  fourteen,  scarcely 
looked  twelve,  and  was  so  slight  and  fragile  that  it 
seemed  as  if  a  touch  must  break  her  to  pieces. 

12 


FADETTE 

But  she  was  too  alert  and  too  much  on  her  guard 
to  wait  for  his  blows,  and  what  she  wanted  in  the 
strength  of  her  hands  she  made  up  in  agility  and 
dexterity.  She  jumped  aside  just  in  time,  so  that 
he  came  near  bruising  his  arm  and  head  against  a 
big  tree  which  stood  between  them. 

"  You  bad  Cricket,"  said  the  poor  boy  in  a  rage, 
u  I  think  you  have  no  heart,  if  you  want  to  vex 
anybody  in  as  much  trouble  as  I.  You  have  been 
trying  for  a  long  time  to  make  me  angry  by  calling 
me  half  a  boy.  Now  I  should  like  to  break  you 
and  your  ugly  little  Grasshopper  of  a  brother  into 
four  pieces,  to  see  if  both  of  you  together  would 
make  the  quarter  of  anything  decent." 

"Come,  come,  fine  twin  of  the  Twinnery,  lord 
of  theRushery  by  the  brook's  boundary,"  answered 
little  Fadette  with  a  sneer,  "you  are  very  foolish 
to  pick  a  quarrel  with  me,  just  when  I  was  going 
to  give  you  news  of  your  twin,  and  tell  you  where 
to  find  him." 

11  That  is  quite  a  different  thing,"  said  Landry, 
calming  down  very  quickly;  "  if  you  know,  Fa- 
dette, tell  me,  and  I  shall  be  thankful." 

"  Fadette  does  not  mean  to  tell  you  this  time  any 
more  than  the  Cricket  did,"  replied  the  little  girl. 

73 


FADETTE 


ti 


You  spoke  rudely  to  me,  and  would  have  struck 
me,  if  you  were  not  so  awkward  arid  clumsy.  Go 
off  and  look  for  your  mad  brother  by  yourself,  since 
you  know  so  much  about  finding  him." 

"I  am  very  foolish  to  listen  to  you,  bad  girl," 
said  Landry,  turning  his  back  and  beginning  to 
walk  off.  "  You  don't  know  any  better  than  I  do 
where  my  brother  is,  and  you  are  just  as  ignorant 
about  it  as  your  grandmother,  who  is  an  old  liar 
and  a  good-for-nothing." 

Fadette,  holding  by  the  hand  little  Grasshopper, 
who  had  succeeded  in  catching  up  with  her  and 
was  clinging  to  her  old  and  dusty  petticoat,  began 
to  follow  Landry,  with  sneering  assurances  that  he 
could  never  find  his  twin  without  her  aid.  So 
Landry,  who  could  not  get  rid  of  her,  fancied  that 
her  grandmother  or  she  herself,  by  some  piece  of 
sorcery  or  familiarity  with  the  river-sprite,  might 
prevent  him  from  finding  Sylvinet,  and  he  decided 
to  set  off  for  home  by  the  upper  edge  of  the  rush- 
field. 

Little  Fadette  followed  him  as  far  as  the  stile 
of  the  meadow,  and  when  he  had  crossed  it,  she 
perched  herself  on  the  top  like  a  magpie  and  called 
out  to  him  : 

74 


FADETTE 

"Good-by,  you  pretty,  heartless  boy;  you  go 
off  leaving  your  brother  behind  you.  You  may 
keep  your  supper  waiting  for  him  a  long  time,  but 
you  will  not  see  him  to-day  or  to-morrow  ;  for  he 
will  not  move  from  where  he  is  any  more  than  a 
lump  of  stone,  and  there  is  a  storm  coming  up. 
There  will  be  still  more  trees  in  the  river  to-night, 
and  the  river  will  carry  Sylvinet  away,  so  far,  so 
very  far,  that  you  will  never  find  him  again." 

These  mischievous  words,  to  which  Landry  lis- 
tened almost  against  his  will,  made  the  cold  sweat 
start  from  his  body.  He  did  not  absolutely  believe 
them,  but  still  the  Fadet  family  was  so  generally 
supposed  to  be  in  league  with  the  devil  that  he 
could  not  be  sure  that  what  she  said  was  quite 
false. 

"Fanchon,"  said  Landry,  stopping,  "  tell  me, 
yes  or  no,  will  you  leave  me  alone  or  say  whether 
you  really  know  anything  about  my  brother  ?  " 

"What  will  you  give  me  if  I  find  him  for  you 
before  it  begins  to  rain  ?  "  said  Fadette,  standing 
erect  on  the  top  of  the  stile  and  waving  her  arms 
as  if  she  were  about  to  fly. 

Landry  did  not  know  what  he  had  to  give  her, 
and  he  began  to  think  that  she  was  trying  to  get 

75 


FADETTE 

money  out  of  him.  But  the  whistling  of  the  wind 
through  the  trees,  and  the  distant  crash  of  thunder, 
wrought  him  into  an  agony  of  terror.  It  is  not 
that  he  was  afraid  of  storms,  but  this  storm  had 
come  up  suddenly  and  in  a  way  that  seemed  su- 
pernatural. Perhaps,  in  his  anxiety,  Landry  had 
not  seen  it  approaching  from  behind  the  trees 
which  skirted  the  river,  especially  as  he  had  been 
for  two  hours  in  the  hollow  beside  the  Val,  and 
could  not  see  the  sky  till  he  had  climbed  to  the 
high  ground.  The  truth  was,  he  caught  sight 
of  the  storm  only  at  the  moment  when  little  Fa- 
dette  announced  it;  and,  as  she  spoke,  the  wind 
blew  out  her  petticoat,  her  unkempt  black  locks 
straggled  out  from  under  the  cap  which  she  always 
wore  untidily  cocked  over  one  ear,  and  bristled  up 
like  horsehair;  a  great  gust  of  wind  had  just  car- 
ried off  the  Grasshopper's  cap,  and  it  was  only  with 
great  difficulty  that  Landry  kept  his  from  going  too. 

In  the  last  few  minutes  the  sky  had  grown  very 
black,  and  Fadette,  standing  on  the  stile,  looked 
twice  her  actual  height ;  in  short,  we  must  confess 
that  Landry  was  afraid. 

"Fanchon,"  said  he,  "  I  will  do  as  you  wish 
if  you  will  only  give  me  back  my  brother.     Per- 

76 


FADETTE 

haps  you  have  seen  him,  and  perhaps  you  know 
where  he  is.  Be  a  good  girl.  I  do  not  see  what 
pleasure  you  can  find  in  my  anxiety.  Show  me 
that  you  can  be  kinder  than  your  looks  and  words 
warrant." 

"  Why  should  I  be  kind  to  you,"  answered  she, 
tl  when  you  treat  me  as  if  I  were  a  bad  girl,  though 
1  have  never  done  you  any  harm  ?  Why  should  I 
be  good  to  twins  who  are  as  proud  as  two  pea- 
cocks, and  who  have  never  shown  me  the  slightest 
attention  ?  " 

"Come,  Fadette,"  said  Landry,  "you  want  me 
to  promise  you  something  ;  tell  me  quickly  what 
you  want,  and  I  will  give  it  to  you.  Do  you  want 
tny  new  knife?" 

"Show  it  to  me,"  cried  Fadette,  jumping  down 
beside  him  like  a  frog. 

When  she  saw  the  knife, — a  good  one  that  Lan- 
dry's grandfather  had  bought  for  ten  pennies  at 
the  last  fair, —  she  was  tempted  for  a  moment ;  but 
soon  she  thought  her  price  too  low,  and  she  de- 
manded instead  his  little  white  hen,  no  bigger  than 
a  pigeon,  and  feathered  to  the  tips  of  its  claws. 

"  I  cannot  promise  you  my  white  hen,  because  it 
belongs  to  my  mother,"  answered  Landry;  "but  I 


FADETTE 

promise  to  ask  her  to  give  it  to  you,  and  I  am  sure 
that  she  will  not  refuse,  because  she  will  be  so  glad 
to  see  Sylvinet  again  that  she  will  think  no  reward 
too  good  for  you." 

"Oh,  ho!"  exclaimed  little  Fadette ;  "and  if  I 
take  a  fancy  to  your  black-nosed  kid,  will  Mother 
Barbeau  give  that  to  me  too?" 

"Good  heavens!  how  long  it  takes  you  to  de- 
cide, Fanchon  !  You  need  say  only  one  word ;  if 
my  brother  is  in  danger  and  you  take  me  to  him 
directly,  I  am  very  sure  that  there  is  not  one  of  all 
our  hens  and  chickens,  goats  and  kids,  at  home, 
which  my  mother  and  father  will  not  give  you 
for  thanks." 

"Well,  we  shall  see,  Landry,"  said  little  Fadette, 
holding  out  her  small  thin  hand  for  the  boy  to  shake 
in  token  of  their  agreement;  and  he  did  so  with 
some  trembling,  for  at  that  moment  her  eyes  glowed 
so  like  coals  of  fire  that  she  looked  like  the  hob- 
goblin in  person.  "  I  shall  not  tell  you  now  what 
I  want  of  you,  and  perhaps  1  do  not  know  it  yet 
myself;  but  remember  what  you  have  just  promised; 
and  if  you  fail,  I  shall  let  everybody  know  that  there 
is  no  faith  in  your  word.  1  say  good-by  to  you  now ; 
and  do  not  forget  that  I  shall  ask  nothing  of  you  un- 

78 


FADETTE 

til  the  day  when  I  shall  determine  to  go  after  you 
to  demand  something  which  shall  be  at  my  disposal, 
and  which  you  must  give  without  delay  or  regret." 

"  Good,  Fadette,  1  promise  ;  it  is  a  bargain,"  said 
Landry,  shaking  her  hand. 

"Well,"  said  she,  with  an  air  of  pride  and  sat- 
isfaction; "go  back  to  the  river's  bank,  follow  it 
along  until  you  hear  a  bleating,  and  where  you  see 
a  little  black  lamb,  there  you  will  see  your  brother. 
If  everything  does  not  happen  as  I  tell  you,  I  let 
you  off  your  promise." 

Thereupon  the  Cricket,  taking  the  Grasshopper 
under  her  arm  without  paying  any  attention  to  his 
reluctance,  though  he  wriggled  like  an  eel,  jumped 
off  into  the  bushes;  and  Landry  neither  saw  nor 
heard  them  any  more  than  if  he  had  been  dreaming. 
He  lost  no  time  in  wondering  whether  little  Fadette 
had  been  making  fun  of  him.  He  ran  without  taking 
breath  to  the  end  of  the  rush-field,  and  keeping 
beside  it,  he  continued  till  he  reached  the  hollow. 
There  he  was  about  to  pass  on  without  stopping, 
as  he  had  already  examined  the  spot,  and  was  sure 
that  Sylvinet  was  not  there ;  but  at  that  moment 
he  heard  the  bleating  of  a  lamb. 

"  O  my  God  ! "  thought  he,  "that  girl  was  right. 

79 


FADETTE 

< 
I  hear  the  lamb ;  my  brother  is  there,  but  I  cannot 

tell  whether  he  is  alive  or  dead." 

He  jumped  down  into  the  hollow,  and  forced  his 
way  among  the  bushes.  Sylvinet  was  not  there ; 
but  on  following  the  stream  for  ten  paces,  listening 
to  the  lamb's  bleating,  Landry  saw  his  brother  seated 
on  the  other  bank  of  the  river,  holding  in  his  blouse 
a  little  lamb,  which  was  quite  black — to  tell  the 
truth  —  from  the  tip  of  its  nose  to  the  end  of  its  tail. 

As  Sylvinet  was  very  much  alive,  and  neither 
injured  nor  soiled  in  person  or  dress,  Landry  was 
so  glad  that  he  began  to  thank  God  in  his  heart, 
without  a  thought  of  asking  pardon  for  resorting 
to  the  devil's  art  to  attain  this  happiness.  Just  as 
he  was  about  to  call  Sylvinet,  who  did  not  as  yet 
see  him,  and  apparently  did  not  hear  him,  on  ac- 
count of  the  noise  the  water  made  by  rushing  rapidly 
over  the  pebbles  in  that  spot,  he  stopped  to  look 
at  him  ;  for  he  was  astonished  to  find  him  exactly 
as  little  Fadette  had  predicted, — as  still  as  any 
stone,  in  the  midst  of  the  trees  which  the  wind 
was  blowing  about  furiously. 

Everybody  knows  how  dangerous  it  is  to  stay  too 
close  to  the  Val  in  a  high  wind.  All  the  banks  are 
undermined,  and  every  heavy  storm  uproots  some 

80 


FADETTE 

• 

of  the  alders,  which  always  have  short  roots,  and 
may  fall  upon  you  without  warning  unless  they  are 
very  big  and  old.  But  Sylvinet,  though  he  was  as 
wise  as  most  people,  did  not  appear  to  be  aware  of 
the  danger.  He  thought  of  it  no  more  than  if  he 
were  under  the  shelter  of  a  comfortable  barn.  Tired 
out  by  tramping  all  day  and  wandering  aimlessly 
about,  although  by  good  luck  he  had  not  drowned 
himself  in  the  river,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was 
drowned  in  his  sorrow  and  vexation  so  deep  that 
he  lay  like  a  log,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  stream,  his 
face  pale  as  a  water-lily,  his  mouth  half  open  like 
a  little  fish  gaping  at  the  sun,  his  hair  tangled  by 
the  wind,  and  not  even  paying  attention  to  the  lit- 
tle lamb,  which  he  had  found  straying  through  the 
meadows  and  had  taken  up  in  pity.  He  had  in- 
deed put  it  into  his  blouse  to  carry  home,  but  on 
his  way  he  had  forgotten  to  ask  to  whom  the  lost 
lamb  belonged.  He  kept  it  on  his  knees,  and  let 
it  lie  there,  unconscious  of  its  bleating,  although  the 
little  creature  cried  despairingly,  and  looked  about 
with  its  great  bright  eyes,  astonished  not  to  be  heard 
by  one  of  its  kind.  It  could  not  see  its  meadow, 
nor  its  mother,  nor  its  fold,  in  this  shady,  grassy 
place  beside  this  great  and  terrifying  rush  of  water. 
6  81 


CHAPTER    X 


F  Landry  had  not  been  separated  from  Sylvi- 
net  by  the  river,  which  is  nowhere  in  its 
course  more  than  four  or  five  yards  broad,  but 
which  in  some  places  is  as  deep  as  it  is  wide,  he 
would  certainly  have  fallen  on  his  brother's  neck 
without  a  moment's  hesitation.  But  as  Sylvinet 
did  not  even  see  him,  he  had  time  to  think  how 
he  should  wake  him  from  his  reverie  and  persuade 
him  to  go  home.  Should  poor  Sylvinet  be  un- 
willing to  consent  to  this,  he  might  easily  run 
away,  while  Landry  could  not  follow  him  quickly 
enough  for  want  of  a  ford  or  a  foot-bridge. 

After  some  reflection,  Landry  fell  to  considering 
how  his  father,  a  very  shrewd  and  prudent  man, 
would  behave  under  similar  circumstances;  and, 
luckily,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Father 
Barbeau  would  set  to  work  very  quietly,  as  if  no- 
thing unusual  had  occurred,  so  that  Sylvinet  should 

82 


FADETTE 

not  real  ize  the  anxiety  he  had  caused,  nor  feel  too  great 
repentance,  nor  be  disposed  to  try  the  same  thing 
again  the  next  time  he  should  happen  to  be  offended. 

So  he  began  to  whistle  as  if  to  make  blackbirds 
sing  in  answer,  like  the  shepherds  when  they 
go  through  the  bushes  at  nightfall.  This  made 
Sylvinet  raise  his  head,  and  when  he  saw  his 
brother  he  was  ashamed,  and  rose  quickly,  think- 
ing he  had  not  been  observed.  Then  for  the  first 
time  Landry  appeared  to  see  him,  and  called  to 
him  without  raising  his  voice  very  much,  as  in 
that  spot  the  noise  of  the  river  was  not  loud 
enough  to  prevent  conversation. 

"O  Sylvinet,  are  you  there?  I  waited  for  you 
all  this  morning,  and  when  I  found  that  you  had 
gone  out  for  such  a  long  time,  I  walked  over  in 
this  direction  while  I  was  waiting  for  supper, 
thinking  that  I  should  find  you  at  home  then;  but 
now  that  you  are  here,  we  will  go  back  together. 
Let  us  follow  the  river,  you  on  that  bank,  and  I  on 
this,  until  we  meet  at  the  ford  of  the  Roulettes. '» 
That  was  the  ford  which  was  right  opposite  Mo- 
ther Fadet's  house. 

"Let  us  go,"  said  Sylvinet,  picking  up  his 
lamb,  which  had  not  yet  learned  to  know  him, 

83 


FADETTE 

and  was  reluctant  to  follow ;  and  they  walked 
along  the  river  without  daring  to  look  at  each 
other,  fearing  to  show  how  sorry  they  were  for 
quarreling,  and  how  glad  they  were  to  be  to- 
gether again.  From  time  to  time  as  they  pur- 
sued their  way,  in  order  to  appear  unconscious  of 
his  brother's  vexation,  Landry  addressed  a  few 
words  to  him.  He  asked  him  first  where  he  had 
found  the  little  black  lamb,  and  Sylvinet  would 
not  tell  him,  because  he  did  not  care  to  acknow- 
ledge that  he  had  been  very  far  away,  and  that  he 
did  not  even  know  the  names  of  the  places  where 
he  had  wandered.  Then  Landry  said,  observing 
his  embarrassment : 

"  You  may  tell  me  all  about  that  later,  for  the 
wind  is  high,  and  it  is  not  safe  to  stay  under  the 
trees  along  the  river ;  but  fortunately  the  rain  is 
beginning  to  fall,  and  the  wind  will  soon  die 
away." 

At  the  same  time  he  said  to  himself,  "  It  is 
really  true  that  the  Cricket  was  right  when  she  told 
me  that  I  should  find  him  before  the  rain  began. 
Surely  that  girl  knows  more  than  we  do!" 

He  did  not  consider  that  he  had  wasted  a  full 
quarter  of  an   hour  in  vainly  entreating  Mother 

84 


FADETTE 

Fadet  to  listen  to  his  prayers,  and  that  little  Fa- 
dette,  of  whom  he  had  not  caught  sight  till  he  left 
the  house,  might  very  well  have  seen  Sylvinet 
during  that  conversation.  At  length  the  idea  oc- 
curred to  him  ;  but  how  could  she  know  so  well 
the  cause  of  his  trouble  when  she  greeted  him,  since 
she  had  not  been  present  when  he  was  talking 
with  the  old  woman?  This  time  he  did  not  re- 
member that  coming  from  the  rush-field  he  had 
asked  news  of  his  brother  from  several  people,  and 
that  somebody  might  have  spoken  of  it  before 
little  Fadette,  or  that  possibly  the  little  girl  might 
have  listened  to  the  end  of  his  conversation  with 
her  grandmother,  hiding  herself,  as  was  her  wont, 
in  order  to  satisfy  her  curiosity. 

On  his  side,  poor  Sylvinet  was  thinking  how  to 
explain  his  bad  conduct  toward  his  brother  and  his 
mother,  for  he  had  not  expected  such  a  ruse  from 
Landry,  and  he  did  not  know  what  story  to  tell, 
as  he  had  never  lied  in  his  life,  and  had  never  kept 
anything  from  his  twin. 

He  was  ill  at  ease  when  he  crossed  the  ford,  not 
having  been  able  to  think  of  an  excuse. 

No  sooner  had  his  brother  reached  the  other  bank 
than  Landry  flung  his  arms  about  him  with  more 
6*  85 


FADETTE 

tenderness  than  he  cared  to  display,  or  than  was 
usual  with  him ;  but  he  refrained  from  questioning 
him,  for  he  saw  that  Sylvinet  had  nothing  to  say; 
and  he  brought  him  home,  talking  of  all  manner  of 
things  other  than  what  they  had  most  at  heart.  As 
they  passed  in  front  of  Mother  Fadet's  house,  he 
looked  carefully  about  for  little  Fadette  ;  for  he  wished 
to  thank  her.  But  the  door  was  shut,  and  there  was 
no  sound  to  be  heard  except  the  cries  of  the  Grass- 
hopper, who  was  bawling  because  his  grandmother 
had  whipped  him  —  as  she  did  every  day,  whether 
he  deserved  it  or  not. 

Sylvinet  was  sorry  to  hear  the  young  scapegrace 
cry,  and  said  to  his  brother : 

"  There  are  always  screams  or  blows  to  be  heard 
in  that  odious  house.  I  know  the  Grasshopper  is  as 
horrid  and  fractious  as  he  can  be ;  and  I  would  not 
give  two  pennies  for  the  Cricket.  Those  poor  chil- 
dren have  neither  father  nor  mother,  and  have  to 
depend  on  an  old  witch  who  is  always  in  some 
mischief  or  other,  and  who  does  not  give  them 
anything." 

"That  is  not  the  way  we  were  brought  up,"  an- 
rwered  Landry.  "  We  never  had  any  beatings  from 
our  father  or  mother,  and  even  when  they  scolded 

86 


FADETTE 

us  for  our  childish  mischief,  they  did  it  so  gently 
and  quietly  that  the  neighbors  could  not  hear  it. 
There  are  some  people,  like  us,  who  are  very  happy 
and  do  not  know  it ;  and  yet  little  Fadette,  who  is 
the  most  unlucky  and  the  most  ill-treated  child  in  the 
world,  is  always  laughing,  and  never  complains." 

Sylvinet  understood  the  reproach,  and  was  sorry 
for  what  he  had  done.  He  had  repented  often  that 
day,  and  twenty  times  he  had  been  on  the  point  of 
going  home;  but  shame  had  held  him  back.  Now 
his  breast  heaved,  and  he  wept  silently  ;  but  his 
brother  took  his  hand,  and  said  : 

u  It  is  going  to  pour,  Sylvinet ;  let  us  race  home." 

So  they  began  to  run,  and  Landry  tried  to  amuse 
Sylvinet,  who  forced  a  smile  to  please  him. 

Just  as  they  were  going  into  the  house,  Sylvinet 
wanted  to  hide  in  the  barn  in  order  to  escape  a 
scolding  from  his  father.  But  Father  Barbeau  did 
not  take  life  as  seriously  as  his  wife,  and  contented 
himself  with  laughing  at  him  ;  and  Mother  Barbeau, 
who  had  learned  a  wise  lesson  from  her  husband, 
tried  to  hide  the  anxiety  she  had  felt.  It  was  only 
while  she  was  making  up  a  good  fire  to  dry  the 
twins,  and  was  giving  them  their  supper,  that 
Sylvinet  saw  she  had  been  crying,  and  from  time 
87 


FADETTE 

to  time  looked  at  him  sadly  and  uneasily.  If  he 
had  been  alone  with  her,  he  would  have  asked 
her  pardon,  and  would  have  kissed  away  her 
grief;  but  his  father  was  not  fond  of  such  cajo- 
leries, and  Sylvinet,  overcome  by  fatigue,  was  forced 
to  go  to  bed  immediately  after  supper,  without  a 
word  of  explanation.  He  had  eaten  nothing  all  day, 
and  as  soon  as  he  had  swallowed  his  supper — of 
which  he  was  greatly  in  need — he  felt  as  if  drunk, 
and  was  obliged  to  allow  himself  to  be  undressed 
and  put  to  bed  by  his  brother,  who  stayed  with 
him,  sitting  on  the  side  of  his  bed  holding  his 
hand  in  his. 

When  Sylvinet  was  sound  asleep,  Landry  said 
good-night  to  his  parents,  without  noticing  that  his 
mother  kissed  him  more  tenderly  than  ever  before. 
He  always  knew  that  she  could  not  love  him  as  she 
did  his  brother ;  but  he  was  not  jealous,  as  he  was 
persuaded  that  he  was  less  amiable,  and  that  he 
received  his  due  portion.  He  submitted  to  this, 
as  much  out  of  consideration  for  his  mother  as  out 
of  love  for  his  brother,  who  needed  petting  and  con- 
solation more  than  he. 

Next  morning  Sylvinet  ran  to  his  mother's  bed- 
side before  she  was  up,  and  opening  his  heart  to  her, 


FADETTE 

confessed  his  sorrow  and  his  shame.  He  told  her 
how,  for  some  time,  he  had  been  most  unhappy,  not 
so  much  on  account  of  his  separation  from  Landry, 
as  because  he  fancied  that  Landry  had  ceased  to  care 
for  him.  When  his  mother  asked  him  why  he  did 
his  brother  such  injustice,  he  could  not  explain  ;  for 
it  was  like  a  disease  which  he  could  not  escape. 
His  mother  understood  him  better  than  she  was  will- 
ing to  acknowledge,  because  a  woman's  heart  is  an 
easy  prey  to  such  torments,  and  she  herself  had  often 
suffered  when  she  saw  how  calm  Landry  was  in  his 
resolution  and  courage. 

This  time  she  recognized  that  jealousy  is  wrong, 
even  in  those  affections  which  God  most  commends, 
and  she  was  very  careful  not  to  encourage  it  in  Syl- 
vinet.  She  called  his  attention  especially  to  the  pain 
he  had  caused  his  brother,  and  to  that  brother's  great 
forbearance  in  not  complaining  or  showing  offense. 
Sylvinet  acknowledged  it,  too,  and  agreed  that  his 
brother  was  better  than  he.  He  made  a  promise 
and  formed  a  resolution  to  cure  himself,  and  he  was 
sincere  in  his  desire. 

Despite  himself — though  he  did  his  best  to  look 
happy  and  contented,  though  his  mother  dried  his 
tears  and  found  soothing  answers  to  all  his  com- 

89 


FADETTE 

plaints,  and  though  he  did  his  best  to  behave  nat- 
urally and  fairly  toward  his  brother  —  there  still  re- 
mained a  leaven  of  bitterness  in  his  heart.  He  could 
not  help  saying  to  himself:  "My  brother  is  more 
Christian  and  right-minded  than  I ;  my  dear  mother 
says  so,  and  it  is  the  truth  ;  but  if  he  loved  me  as 
much  as  I  love  him,  he  never  could  have  done  as 
he  has." 

And  it  came  into  his  mind  how  quiet  and  almost 
indifferent  Landry  appeared  when  he  found  him 
on  the  river's  bank.  He  remembered  how  he  had 
heard  him  whistling  for  blackbirds  in  his  search, 
at  the  very  moment  when  he  himself  was  contem- 
plating a  death  in  the  river.  If  he  had  not  left 
home  with  this  idea,  before  evening  came  he  had 
thought  of  it  more  than  once,  because  he  believed 
that  his  brother  would  never  forgive  him  for  sulk- 
ing and  running  away  from  home  the  first  time  in 
his  life. 

"  Had  he  offended  me  in  this  way,"  thought  he, 
11 1  should  never  forget  it.  I  am  very  glad  that  he 
has  forgiven  me,  but  still  I  could  not  help  thinking 
that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  forgive  me 
so  easily." 

Then  the  poor  child  sighed  as  he  struggled  with 
himself,  and  struggled  in  spite  of  his  sighs. 

90 


FADETTE 

However,  as^God  always  rewards  and  helps  us 
according  as  we  try  to  please  him,\Sylvinet  became 
more  reasonable  ;  for  the  rest  of  the  year  he  neither 
sulked  nor  quarreled  with  his  brother — in  short,  he 
loved  him  more  calmly  ;  and  he  grew  strong,  and 
recovered  his  health,  which  had  suffered  through 
his  distress  of  mind.  His  father  gave  him  much  to 
do,  as  he  observed  that  the  less  time  he  had  for 
meditation,  the  happier  he  was.  Still,  work  at 
home  is  never  so  hard  as  work  for  hire,  and  Lan- 
dry, who  never  spared  himself,  gained  more  that 
year  in  strength  and  stature  than  his  twin.  The 
small  differences  between  them,  which  had  always 
been  apparent,  became  intensified,  and  passed  from 
their  souls  into  their  faces.  When  they  had  completed 
their  fifteenth  year,  Landry  grew  into  a  fine-look- 
ing fellow,  while  Sylvinet  was  still  a  pretty  lad, 
more  slender  and  less  manly  than  his  brother. 
They  were  no  longer  mistaken  for  each  other,  and 
though  they  always  looked  like  brothers,  no  one 
at  first  sight  thought  them  twins.  Landry,  who 
was  called  the  younger,  as  he  was  born  an  hour 
after  Sylvinet,  seemed  to  strangers  the  elder  by  a 
year  or  more.  [This  increased  the  love  of  Father 
Barbeau,  who,  like  the  true  peasant  he  was,  esteemed 
muscle  and  stature  before  everything.    ', 

9.         ^ 


CHAPTER  XI 


FOR  some  time  after  Landry's  adventure  with 
little  Fadette,  the  boy  felt  worried  about  the 
promise  he  had  made.  At  the  moment  when  she 
had  released  him  from  his  anxiety,  he  was  willing 
to  pledge  all  the  best  his  father  and  mother  owned 
at  the  Twinnery  ;  but  when  he  saw  that  Father 
Barbeau  had  not  taken  Sylvinet's  pettishness  seri- 
ously, and  that  he  had  shown  no  uneasiness,  he 
feared  lest  his  father  should  shut  the  door  in  little 
Fadette's  face  when  she  should  come  to  demand  her 
reward,  sneering  at  her  boasted  art,  and  at  the  mag- 
nificent promises  which  Landry  had  made. 

This  fear  made  Landry  thoroughly  ashamed,  and 
now  that  his  trouble  was  past,  he  thought  he  had 
been  very  foolish  to  see  any  witchcraft  in  what  had 
happened.  He  was  not  sure  that  little  Fadette  had 
made  fun  of  him,  but  he  felt  there  might  be  a  doubt 
on  the  subject,  and  he  could  find  no  good  reasons  to 

92 


FADETTE 

satisfy  his  father  that  he  had  acted  wisely  in  enter- 
ing upon  an  engagement  which  involved  such  heavy 
consequences  ;  on  the  other  hand,  he  felt  it  impos- 
sible to  break  such  an  engagement,  for  he  had 
pledged  his  faith,  and  he  had  done  it  in  honor  and 
conscience. 

To  his  great  astonishment,  neither  the  next  day 
after  the  adventure,  nor  that  month,  nor  that  sea- 
son, did  he  hear  anything  of  little  Fadette  at  the 
Twinnery  or  at  the  Priche.  She  neither  came  to 
Father  Caillaud's  farm  to  ask  to  speak  to  Landry, 
nor  to  Father  Barbeau's  to  claim  anything,  and  when 
Landry  caught  sight  of  her  far  off  across  the  fields, 
she  never  approached  him,  and  paid  no  attention  to 
him.  This  was  unusual,  for  she  was  in  the  habit 
of  running  after  everybody  to  stare  at  them  out  of 
curiosity,  to  laugh,  joke,  and  banter  with  those  who 
were  in  good  humor,  or  to  rail  and  scoff  at  those 
who  were  not. 

As  Mother  Fadet's  house  is  midway  between  the 
Priche  and  the  Cosse,  it  was  impossible  that  one 
day  or  other  Landry  should  not  find  himself  in  the 
path  face  to  face  with  little  Fadette ;  and  since  the 
path  is  narrow,  Landry  could  not  well  avoid  giving 
her  a  word  of  greeting  in  passing. 

95 


FADETTE 

One  evening,  as  little  Fadette  was  bringing  home 
her  geese,  the  Grasshopper  as  usual  at  her  heels, 
and  Landry,  who  had  been  to  the  meadow  after  the 
mares,  was  driving  them  quietly  home  to  the 
Priche,  the  two  met  in  the  little  path  which  leads 
down  from  the  Cross  of  the  Bossons  to  the  ford  of 
the  Roulettes,  and  which  is  sunk  so  deep  between 
two  embankments  that  there  were  no  means  of  es- 
cape. Landry  blushed,  afraid  of  being  called  upon 
to  fulfil  his  word;  and  not  wishing  to  encourage 
little  Fadette,  the  moment  he  saw  her  he  jumped 
upon  one  of  the  mares,  and  kicked  her  with  his 
sabots  to  make  her  trot ;  but  as  all  the  mares 
had  hobbles  on  their  feet,  the  mare  which  he  be- 
strode could  go  no  faster.  When  Landry  saw  little 
Fadette  near  at  hand,  he  dared  not  look  at  her,  and 
turned,  pretending  to  see  whether  his  fillies  were 
following.  When  he  looked  ahead  again,  he  found 
that  Fadette  had  already  passed  him  without  a  word ; 
he  did  not  even  know  whether  she  had  glanced  at 
him,  or  had  tried  to  bid  him  good-evening  with  a 
look  or  smile.  He  saw  only  Jeanet  the  Grasshop- 
per, who,  following  his  malicious  and  disagreeable 
disposition,  had  picked  up  a  stone  to  throw  at  the 
mare's  legs.     Landry  felt  a  desire  to  give  him  a  cut 

94 


FADETTE 

with  the  whip,  but  he  dreaded  lest  he  should  have 
to  stop  for  an  explanation  with  the  sister.  So  he 
pretended  not  to  notice  him,  and  went  on  without 
looking  behind  him. 

It  was  always  about  the  same  when  Landry  met 
little  Fadette.  Little  by  little  he  took  courage  to 
look  her  in  the  face  ;  for  as  he  grew  older  and  wiser 
he  did  not  think  so  much  of  such  a  slight  matter. 
When  he  grew  bold  enough  to  watch  her  calmly, 
ready  to  hear  anything  she  might  have  to  say,  he 
was  surprised  to  see  that  the  girl  purposely  turned 
her  head  away,  as  though  she  were  as  much  afraid 
of  him  as  he  of  her.  This  emboldened  him,  and 
as  he  was  of  a  just  disposition,  he  asked  himself 
if  he  had  not  done  amiss  in  never  thanking  her 
for  the  comfort  she  had  given  him,  whether  she 
had  succeeded  by  art  or  by  chance.  He  resolved 
to  speak  to  her  the  next  time  he  saw  her,  and  when 
that  moment  came  he  advanced  at  least  ten  steps 
toward  her  to  say  "  How  do  you  do?  "  and  to  be- 
gin a  conversation  with  her. 

As  he  approached,  however,  little  Fadette  looked 

very  proud  and  almost  angry  ;  and  when  she  finally 

decided  to  meet  his  gaze,  she  did  it  so  disdainfully 

that  he  lost  countenance  and  dared  not  address  her. 

95 


FADETTE 

It  was  the  last  time  that  year  that  Landry  saw 
her  near  at  hand,  for,  from  that  day  on,  little  Fadette, 
led  by  some  whim  or  other,  avoided  him  success- 
fully, and  whenever  she  saw  him  in  the  distance, 
she  would  turn  aside  into  some  field,  so  as  not  to 
meet  him.  Landry  thought  her  angry  on  account 
of  his  ingratitude  ;  but  his  reluctance  was  so  great 
that  he  took  no  step  toward  a  reconciliation.  Fa- 
dette was  not  like  other  children.  She  was  natu- 
rally too  little  prone  to  take  offense,  and  her  sharp 
tongue  was  so  ready  with  the  last  sarcastic  word 
that  she  liked  to  provoke  jeers  and  derision.  No 
one  had  ever  seen  her  sulky,  and  people  even  re- 
proached her  with  a  want  of  that  pride  which  every 
girl  should  have  when  she  is  fifteen  years  old  and 
begins  to  feel  her  own  importance.  She  was  a 
little  tomboy,  and  often  tried  to  tease  and  torment 
Sylvinet  till  his  patience  was  exhausted,  when 
she  caught  him  unawares  dreaming,  as  was  still 
his  wont.  When  she  met  him  she  always  fol- 
lowed him  for  a  part  of  the  way,  laughing  at  him 
for  being  a  twin,  and  torturing  his  feelings  by  say- 
ing that  Landry  did  not  care  for  him,  and  only  made 
light  of  his  misery.  So  poor  Sylvinet,  who  believed 
more  firmly  than  Landry  in  her  witchcraft,  was  as- 

96 


FADETTE 

tonished  that  she  should  guess  his  thoughts,  and 
detested  her  heartily.  He  despised  both  her  and 
her  family,  and  as  she  avoided  Landry,  so  he  avoided 
the  hateful  Cricket  ;  for  he  thought  that  sooner  or 
later  she  must  follow  the  example  of  her  mother, 
who  had  led  a  bad  life,  and  in  the  end  had  left  her 
husband  to  follow  the  camp.  Shortly  after  the  birth 
of  her  little  boy,  she  had  gone  off  as  a  vivandiere, 
and  had  never  been  heard  of  since.  The  husband 
had  died  of  mortification,  and  so  old  Mother  Fadet 
was  obliged  to  assume  the  charge  of  the  two  chil- 
dren, of  whom  she  took  little  care;  for  she  was  so 
aged  and  niggardly  that  she  was  quite  unfit  to  look 
after  them  and  bring  them  up  properly. 

For  all  these  reasons,  though  Landry  was  not  so 
proud  as  Sylvinet,  he  felt  disgust  for  little  Fadette, 
and  sorry  that  he  had  ever  had  anything  to  do  with 
her,  and  took  great  care  not  to  let  anybody  know 
of  it.  He  even  kept  it  from  his  twin,  as  he  was  not 
willing  to  acknowledge  to  him  how  much  uneasi- 
ness he  had  suffered  on  his  account.  Sylvinet,  on 
his  side,  was  silent  in  regard  to  little  Fadette's 
malice  toward  him,  ashamed  to  confess  that  she 
had  divined  his  jealousy. 

But  time  went  on.  At  the  age  of  our  twins 
7  97 


FADETTE 

weeks  are  like  months,  and  months  like  years,  in 
the  changes  they  bring  to  body  and  mind.  Landry 
soon  forgot  his  adventure,  and  after  a  little  anxiety 
over  the  recollection  of  Fadette,  he  thought  no 
more  of  it  than  if  it  had  been  a  dream. 

Landry  had  been  about  ten  months  at  the  Priche, 
and  St.  John's  day,  the  anniversary  of  his  engage- 
ment with  Father  Caillaud,  was  near.  That  good 
man  was  so  much  pleased  with  him  that  he  had 
decided  to  increase  his  wages  rather  than  let  him 
go  ;  and  Landry  asked  for  nothing  better  than  to 
remain  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  family,  and  to 
renew  his  term  at  the  Priche,  where  he  found  the 
people  very  congenial.  Besides,  he  felt  that  he  was 
becoming  attached  to  a  niece  of  Father  Caillaud's, 
Madelon  by  name,  a  fine  specimen  of  a  girl.  She 
was  a  year  older  than  he,  and  still  treated  him  a 
little  like  a  child  ;  though  less  and  less  as  the  days 
went  on.  At  the  beginning  of  the  year  she  had 
made  fun  of  his  embarrassment  when  he  kissed  her 
in  games  or  dances,  but  at  the  end  she  blushed  in- 
stead of  tea^mg_JijTnL^nd  would  no  longer  stay 
alon*  with   him   in   the  barn   or   in   the  hay-loft. 


Madelon  was  not  poor,  and  a  marriage  might  very 
well  in  time  have  been   arranged  between  them. 

98 


FADETTE 

Both  families  were  very  respectable  and  esteemed 
throughout  the  country-side.  After  some  time,  Fa- 
ther Caillaud,  who  observed  that  these  two  children 
desired  and  yet  dreaded  each  other's  companion- 
ship, said  to  Father  Barbeau  that  they  would  make 
a  fine  couple,  and  that  he  saw  no  harm  in  letting 
their  friendship  grow  as  time  went  on. 

So,  a  week  before  St.  John's  day,  it  was  settled 
that  Landry  should  remain  at  the  Priche,  and  that 
Sylvinet,  who  had  come  to  his  senses,  should  stay 
at  home;  for  Father  Barbeau  had  fallen  ill  with  a 
fever,  and  found  the  boy  very  useful  in  working 
the  farm.  Sylvinet  had  been  much  in  dread  of 
being  sent  away  to  a  distance,  and  this  fear  had 
turned  to  good  account,  for  he  tried  more  and  more 
to  overcome  his  excessive  fondness  for  Landry,  or 
at  least  to  make  it  less  apparent.  Peace  and  con- 
tentment returned  to  the  Twinnery,  although  the 
twins  saw  each  other  only  once  or  twice  a  week. 
The  feast  of  St.  John  was  a  happy  day  for  them  ; 
they  went  to  town  together  to  see  the  crowd  of 
servants  waiting  to  be  hired  out  for  service  in  town 
or  country,  and  the  festival  which  followed  in  the 
great  square.  Landry  danced  more  than  once  with 
the  pretty  Madelon,  and  Sylvinet  tried  to  please 
99 


FADETTE 

him  by  dancing  too.  He  did  not  acquit  himself 
very  well ;  but  Madelon  was  particularly  kind  to 
him,  and  when  opposite  to  him  she  took  him  by  the 
hand  to  teach  him  the  step.  Sylvinet,  happy  to 
be  in  his  brother's  company,  made  up  his  mind 
to  learn  to  dance  well,  so  that  he  could  share  a 
pleasure  which  up  to  that  time  he  had  grudged 
Landry. 

He  was  not  very  jealous  of  Madelon,  because  Lan- 
dry was  still  reserved  in  her  presence.  Besides, 
Madelon  petted  and  made  much  of  Sylvinet.  She 
was  unembarrassed  with  him,  and  a  careless  ob- 
server would  have  thought  him  her  favorite.  Landry 
might  have  been  jealous,  had  it  not  been  foreign 
to  his  nature ;  and  perhaps,  in  spite  of  his  great 
simplicity,  something  told  him  that  Madelon  only 
behaved  thus  to  please  him,  and  to  find  more  fre- 
quent opportunities  of  being  in  his  company. 

Everything  went  well  for  about  three  months, 
until  the  fejst  of  St.  Andoche,  the  patron  saint  of 
the  town  of  Cosse,  whose  day  comes  toward  the 
last  of  September. 

That  day  was  always  a  glorious  holiday  for  the 
twins,  because  it  was  celebrated  with  dances  and 
games  of  all  kinds  under  the  great  walnut-trees  of 

ioo 


FADETTE 

the  village  ;  but  this  year  it  brought  them  new  and 
unlooked-for  troubles. 

As  Father  Caillaud  had  given  permission  to  Lan- 
dry to  spend  the  night  before  the  feast  at  the 
Twinnery,  so  that  he  might  take  part  in  the  early 
festivities  next  day,  Landry  started  before  supper, 
rejoicing  in  the  prospect  of  surprising  his  brother, 
who  did  not  expect  him  before  morning.  It  was 
the  season  when  the  days  begin  to  shorten  and  the 
nights  come  on  quickly.  Landry  was  never  afraid 
of  anything  in  full  daylight;  but  it  would  not  have 
been  natural  if  at  his  age  and  in  his  part  of  the 
country  he  had  liked  to  be  alone  on  the  roads  after 
dark  —  above  all,  in  autumn,  which  is  the  season 
when  witches  and  sprites  love  to  carouse,  because 
of  the  fogs,  which  help  to  hide  their  pranks  and 
mischief.  Landry,  who  was  accustomed  to  go  alone 
at  all  hours  to  drive  his  oxen  out  or  back,  was  not 
particularly  anxious  that  evening  ;  but  he  walked 
quickly  and  sang  aloud,  as  peasants  do  when  the 
nights  are  dark  ;  for  it  is  known  that  a  man's  song 
startles  and  scares  away  evil  beasts  and  evil  beings. 

When  he  reached  the  ford  of  the  Roulettes  (so 
called  because  of  the  quantity  of  round  pebbles  at 
its  bottom),  he  turned  up  the  legs  of  his  trousers, 

7*  IOI 


FADETTE 

for  he  knew  that  the  water  might  come  above  his 
ankles,  and  he  was  very  careful  not  to  walk  straight 
before  him,  because  the  ford  crosses  the  river 
obliquely,  and  there  might  be  bad  holes  to  right 
or  left.  Landry  knew  the  ford  so  well  that  he 
could  not  make  a  mistake.  Besides,  he  could  see 
from  where  he  was  through  the  trees,  which  were 
more  than  half  stripped  of  their  leaves,  the  little 
light  which  came  from  Mother  Fadet's  house,  and 
by  looking  at  this  light  and  directing  his  steps 
toward  it,  he  was  sure  there  was  no  chance  of 
making  a  misstep. 

It  was  so  dark  under  the  trees,  however,  that 
Landry  sounded  the  ford  with  his  stick  before 
stepping  in.  He  was  surprised  to  find  the  water 
deeper  than  usual,  especially  as  he  heard  the  noise 
of  the  sluices,  which  had  been  open  for  a  full  hour. 
However,  since  he  could  see  distinctly  the  light 
from  Fadette's  window,  he  risked  it ;  but  after  two 
or  three  steps  he  found  that  the  water  came  up 
above  his  knees,  and  he  drew  back,  thinking  that 
he  had  made  a  mistake.  He  tried  the  stream  abov« 
and  below,  but  in  both  places  the  water  was  stiU 
deeper.  No  rain  had  fallen,  and  there  was  a  con- 
tinual roar  from  the  sluices.  It  was  very  surprising, 
102 


CHAPTER    XII 

1MUST  have  tried  the  ford  in  the  wrong  place," 
thought  Landry  ;  "for  now  I  see  Fadette's  candle 
on  my  right,  and  certainly  it  should  be  on  my  left." 
He  retraced  his  steps  as  far  as  the  Cross  of  the 
Lievre,  and  walked  all  lound  it,  keeping  his  eyes 
closed  in  order  to  forget  his  previous  impressions ; 
and  after  he  had  examined  the  neighbouring  trees 
and  bushes  carefully,  he  struck  into  the  beaten  path 
and  returned  to  the  river-bank.  Although  the  ford 
looked  shallow,  he  dared  not  advance  more  than  a 
step  or  two  ;  for  all  of  a  sudden  he  perceived,  almost 
directly  behind  him,  the  light  from  Mother  Fadet's 
house,  and  he  knew  it  should  be  full  in  front.  He 
returned  to  the  bank,  and  now  the  light  seemed  to 
be  in  its  proper  place.  He  tried  the  ford  once  more, 
crossing  obliquely  in  another  direction,  and  this 
time  the  water  almost  reached  his  waist.  Never- 
theless, he  kept  straight  on,  thinking  that  although 
103 


FADETTE 

he  had  got  into  a  hole,  he  would  get  out  again  by 
keeping  straight  on  toward  the  light. 

He  was  forced  to  stop,  for  the  hole  grew  deeper 
at  every  step,  and  he  was  wet  up  to  the  shoulders. 
The  water  was  very  cold,  and  he  halted  a  moment 
in  doubt  whether  it  were  not  best  to  return  ;  for  the 
light  appeared  to  have  changed  its  position,  and  he 
could  even  see  it  move,  glide,  leap,  and  bound 
from  one  bank  to  the  other,  and  finally  it  seemed 
to  be  double  as  it  reflected  itself  in  the  water  and 
rested  like  a  bird  poised  on  its  wings,  with  a  little 
sputtering  sound  like  that  made  by  a  resinous  torch. 

This  time  Landry  was  afraid,  and  almost  lost  his 
head  ;  for  he  had  heard  it  said  that  there  was  no- 
thing more  deceptive  and  dangerous  than  this  very 
fire,  which  made  sport  of  all  who  looked  at  it,  and 
delighted  to  lead  them  into  the  deepest  water,  laugh- 
ing after  its  own  fashion,  and  mocking  the  agony 
of  its  victims. 

Landry  shut  his  eyes  to  avoid  seeing  it,  and  turn- 
ing quickly,  he  scrambled  out  of  the  hole  at  all 
risks  and  stood  once  more  on  the  bank,  and 
watched  the  will-o'-the-wisp,  which  kept  on  danc- 
ing and  laughing.  It  was,  indeed,  uncanny  to  see 
it  dart  about  like  a  kingfisher,  and  again  disappear 
104 


FADETTE 

altogether.  Sometimes  it  grew  as  large  as  the  head 
of  a  bull,  and  then  it  shrank  in  a  twinkling  to  the 
size  of  a  cat's-eye.  It  came  close  to  Landry,  and 
circled  round  him  so  quickly  that  he  felt  dazed ; 
and  finally  seeing  that  he  would  not  follow,  it 
turned  away  to  flutter  about  among  the  reeds,  where 
it  seemed  to  sulk  and  meditate  some  further  im- 
pertinence. 

Landry  dared  not  stir,  for  to  retrace  his  steps 
was  not  the  way  to  get  rid  of  the  will-o'-the-wisp. 
Everybody  knows  how  it  persists  in  chasing  people 
who  run  away,  and  how  it  keeps  crossing  their 
path  until  it  robs  them  of  their  senses  and  makes 
them  tumble  into  a  pitfall.  He  was  shivering  with 
fear  and  cold,  when  he  heard  behind  him  a  very 
sweet  little  voice  singing  : 

Sprite,  sprite,  little  sprite, 
Take  thy  trumpet  and  thy  light ; 
I  have  my  cloak,  for  it  grows  late, 
And  every  fairy  has  her  mate  ; 

and  the  next  instant,  little  Fadette,  who  was  gaily 
making  ready  to  cross  the  stream,  without  a  sign  of 
fear  or  astonishment  in  the  presence  of  the  fairy 
flame,  stumbled  against  Landry,  who  was  sitting  on 
the  ground  in  the  darkness,  and  then  started  back 
105 


FADETTE 

swearing,  just  as  if  she  were  a  boy  not  unlearned 
in  oaths. 

"It  is  I,  Fanchon,"  said  Landry,  getting  up; 
;<do  not  be  afraid.     I  am  no  enemy  of  yours." 

He  spoke  thus  because  he  was  almost  as  much 
afraid  of  her  as  of  the  sprite.  He  had  heard  her 
song,  and  understood  very  well  that  she  was  mak- 
ing an  incantation  to  the  will-o'-the-wisp,  which 
danced  and  twirled  madly  before  her,  as  if  it  were 
glad  to  see  her. 

Then  little  Fadette  spoke,  after  a  moment's 
thought : 

"I  know  very  well,  my  pretty  twin,  that  you 
only  flatter  me  because  you  are  frightened  half  to 
death,  and  your  voice  shakes  in  your  throat  just 
as  my  grandmother's  does.  Come,  faint-heart, 
nobody  is  as  bold  in  the  dark  as  in  the  daylight, 
and  I  wager  that  you  have  not  the  courage  to  cross 
the  stream  without  me." 

"Heavens!"  exclaimed  Landry.  "I  have  just 
come  out  of  it,  and  was  almost  drowned.  Are  you 
going  to  risk  it,  Fadette?  Are  you  not  afraid  of 
missing  the  ford?" 

"  And  why  should  I  miss  it  ?  But  I  see  what  it 
is  that  is  worrying  you,"  answered  little  Fadette, 
1 06 


FADETTE 

with  a  laugh.  "  Come  along,  coward  ;  give  me 
your  hand.  The  sprite  is  not  so  bad  as  you  think, 
and  it  only  harms  people  that  are  afraid  of  it.  1 
often  see  it  myself,  and  we  know  each  other." 

Then,  with  more  strength  than  Landry  supposed 
she  possessed,  she  pulled  him  by  the  arm  and  led 
him  into  the  ford,  running  and  singing  : 

I  have  my  cloak,  for  it  grows  late, 
And  every  fairy  has  her  mate. 

Landry  felt  hardly  more  at  his  ease  in  the  society 
of  this  little  witch  than  in  that  of  the  will-o'-the- 
wisp.  However,  since  he  liked  better  to  see  the 
devil  in  the  guise  of  a  being  of  his  own  kind  than 
in  the  form  of  such  a  sly  and  fleeting  fire,  he  made 
no  resistance,  and  was  soon  reassured  by  finding 
that  Fadctte  had  guided  him  so  well  that  he  was 
walking  again  on  the  dry  pebbles.  As  they  walked 
quickly  along  together,  they  created  a  draught 
which  attracted  the  will-o'-the-wisp,  and  so  they 
were  continually  followed  by  this  meteor,  as  our 
.-;choolrna:ter  calls  it, —  and  he  knows  a  great  deal 
about  it,  and  assures  us  that  we  have  nothing  to 
fear  from  it. 


107 


CHAPTER  XIII 

POSSIBLY  Mother  Fadet,  too,  had  some  know- 
ledge on  the  subject,  and  had  warned  her 
granddaughter  not  to  fear  these  nocturnal  fires  ;  or 
perhaps  it  was  by  dint  of  seeing  them  —  for  they 
were  often  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  ford  of  the 
Roulettes,  and  it  was  only  by  an  odd  chance  that 
Landry  had  never  beheld  one  near  at  hand — that 
the  little  girl  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
sprite  from  which  they  emanated  was  not  evil,  and 
would  do  no  harm.  She  felt  Landry  tremble  from 
head  to  foot  as  the  will-o'-the-wisp  approached  them. 

"  Idiot,"  she  said  to  him  ;  "  that  fire  does  not 
burn,  and  if  you  were  clever  enough  to  touch  it, 
you  would  see  that  it  does  not  even  leave  a  mark." 

"  That  is  all  the  worse,"  thought  Landry.     "If 
fire  does  not  burn,  you  cannot  tell  what  it  is.     It 
cannot  come  from  God,  for  the  fire  that  God  gives 
is  made  to  heat  and  burn." 
108 


FADETTE 

But  he  did  not  betray  his  thought  to  little  Fa- 
dette,  and  when  he  reached  the  bank  safe  and 
sound,  he  felt  a  strong  desire  to  leave  her  there 
and  to  make  his  escape  to  the  Twinnery.  His 
heart  was  not  ungrateful,  however,  and  he  would 
not  leave  Fadette  without  a  word  of  thanks. 

"  This  is  the  second  time  you  have  done  me  a 
favor,  Fanchon  Fadet,"  he  said  to  her,  "  and  I 
should  be  worthless  did  I  not  tell  you  that  I  shall 
remember  it  all  my  life.  I  was  sitting  there  like 
a  fool  when  you  found  me.  The  sprite  had  be- 
witched and  overpowered  me,  and  I  should  never 
have  crossed  the  river ;  or,  indeed,  I  should  never 
have  got  out  of  it," 

"Perhaps  you  might  have  crossed  without  trou- 
ble or  danger  if  you  were  not  such  a  fool,"  an- 
swered little  Fadette.  "I  should  never  have  believed 
that  a  big  boy  like  you,  who  is  nearly  seventeen,  and 
will  soon  have  a  beard  on  his  chin,  could  be  so  easily 
frightened,  and  I  am  glad  to  see  you  like  this." 

"And  why  are  you  glad,  Fanchon  Fadet?" 

"Because  I  have  no  liking  for  you,"  said  she, 
contemptuously. 

"And  why  is  it  that  you  have  no  liking  for 
me?" 

too 


FADETTE 

"  Because  I  have  no  good  opinion  of  you,  of  you 
nor  your  twin,  nor  your  father,  nor  your  mother, 
who  are  proud  because  they  are  rich,  and  who  think 
that  people  only  do  their  duty  when  they  do  them 
a  kindness.  They  have  taught  you  to  be  ungrate- 
ful, Landry  ;  and  that  is  the  worst  fault  a  man  can 
have  except  cowardice." 

Landry  was  much  humiliated  by  the  reproaches 
of  the  little  girl,  for  he  felt  that  they  were  not  en- 
tirely undeserved,  and  he  answered  her : 

"If  I  am  to  blame,  Fadette,  blame  only  me. 
Nobody  at  home,  neither  my  brother,  nor  my 
father  and  mother,  know  anything  about  the  help 
that  you  once  before  gave  me.  But  this  time  they 
shall  know  it,  and  you  shall  have  what  reward  you 
want." 

"Ah  !  here  you  are  high  and  mighty,  indeed," 
replied  little  Fadette  ;  "because  you  think  that  with 
your  presents  you  can  square  accounts  with  me.  \ 
You  think  that  1  am  like  my  grandmother,  who 
puts  up  with  all  the  rudeness  and  insolence  in  the 
world,  so  long  as  somebody  will  give  her  a  little 
money.  But  as  for  me,  1  do  not  want  your  gifts, 
and  I  despise  all  you  may  give  me  ;  for  you  have 
not  had  the  heart  to  find  a  kind  or  friendly  word  to 

I  10 


FADETTE 

say  to  me  since  nearly  a  year  ago,  when  I  cured  you 
of  a  great  sorrow." 

"lam  to  blame,  I  confess,  Fadette,"  said  Landry, 
who  could  not  help  feeling  astonished  at  the  way 
in  which  he  now  heard  her  talk  for  the  first  time ; 
"but  it  is  also  a  little  your  own  fault.  There  was 
not  much  magic  about  making  me  find  my  brother, 
since  no  doubt  you  had  just  been  watching  him 
while  I  was  telling  my  story  to  your  grandmother; 
and  if  you  really  had  a  kind  heart,  you,  who  re- 
proach me  with  not  having  any,  instead  of  allow- 
ing me  to  wait  so  anxiously,  and  instead  of  giving 
me  directions  which  might  have  led  me  off  the 
track,  would  have  said  at  once  :  '  Walk  through 
the  meadow,  and  you  will  see  him  on  the  river- 
bank  ! '  That  would  not  have  cost  you  much 
trouble  ;  but,  instead  of  this,  you  made  a  mean  joke 
of  my  distress,  and  it  is  this  that  has  cheapened 
the  price  of  the  service  you  have  done  me." 

Little  Fadette  had  an  answer  ready,  but  she  was 
silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  said : 

"I  understand  very  well   that   you  have  done 

your  best  to  shut  out  all  gratitude  from  your  heart, 

and  to  persuade  yourself  that  you  owe  me  nothing 

because  of  the  reward  that  I  insisted  upon  your 

1 1 1 


FADETTE 

promising  me.  But  once  again  your  heart  is  hard 
and  bad,  for  you  have  never  noticed  that  I  have 
not  demanded  anything  of  you,  and  that  I  have 
never  even  reproached  you  for  your  ingratitude." 

"  That  is  true,  Fanchon,"  said  Landry,  who  was 
honesty  itself.  "  I  am  in  the  wrong.  I  have  felt  it, 
and  have  been  ashamed.  I  ought  to  have  spoken  to 
you.  I  intended  to  do  so,  but  you  always  looked  at 
me  so  angrily  that  I  did  not  know  how  to  go  about  it." 

"  And  if  you  had  come  the  day  after  our  con- 
versation to  say  a  friendly  word,  you  would  not 
have  found  me  at  all  angry ;  you  would  have  dis- 
covered at  once  that  I  did  not  wish  any  payment, 
and  we  should  have  been  friends  ;  but,  instead  of 
this,  I  have  now  a  very  bad  opinion  of  you,  and  I 
ought  to  have  left  you  to  get  away  from  the  sprite 
as  best  you  could.  Good-night,  Landry  of  the 
Twinnery ;  go,  dry  your  clothes,  and  tell  your 
parents:  'If  it  had  not  been  for  that  little  ragged 
Cricket,  upon  my  word,  I  should  have  drunk  my 
fill  of  the  river  to-night.'  " 

As  she  spoke  thus,  little  Fadette  turned  her  back 
on  him,  and  marched  off  toward  her  house,  singing : 

Take  your  lesson  and  your  pack, 
Landry  Barbeau,  and  then  go  back. 

I  12 


FADETTE 

This  time  Landry  felt  a  great  repentance  in  his 
soul, —  not  that  he  was  disposed  to  any  sort  of 
friendship  with  a  girl  who  was  more  clever  than 
kind,  and  whose  manners  were  displeasing  even  to 
those  whom  they  amused  ;  but  his  heart  was  up- 
right, and  he  wished  to  keep  a  clear  conscience. 
He  ran  after  her,  and  caught  her  by  her  cloak. 
"Come,  Fanchon  Fadet,  he  said  to  her,  "we 
must  settle  this  matter  between  us  and  be  done 
with  it.  You  are  dissatisfied  with  me,  and  I  am 
not  too  well  satisfied  with  myself.  You  must  tell 
me  what  you  wish,  and  not  later  than  to-morrow  I 
will  bring  it  to  you." 

"  I  wish  never  to  see  you  again,"  answered  Fa- 
dette,  harshly;  "and  no  matter  what  you  bring 
me,  you  may  be  sure  I  shall  throw  it  in  your  face." 

"  You  are  too  rude  to  me,  now  that  I  am  trying 
to  make  you  amends.  If  you  do  not  want  a  present, 
perhaps  there  is  some  way  of  doing  you  a  service 
and  showing  you  that  I  wish  you  no  harm.  Come, 
tell  me  what  I  can  do  to  satisfy  you." 

"  Then  you  are  not  going  to  ask  my  pardon  and 
try  to  make  friends  with  me?"  demanded  little 
Fadette,  stopping. 

"  It  would  be  very  hard  to  ask  your  pardon," 
8  1 13 


FADETTE 

answered  Landry,  unable  to  conquer  his  pride  to- 
ward a  girl  who  did  not  receive  any  of  the  consid- 
eration due  to  the  age  she  had  just  reached,  since 
her  behavior  was  too  often  wanting  in  propriety. 
"  As  for  your  friendship,  Fadette,  your  mind  is  so 
oddly  constructed  that  I  could  have  no  great  con- 
fidence in  you.  So,  ask  for  something  that  I  can 
give  you  right  away,  and  that  I  shall  not  have  to 
take  back  again." 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Fadette,  in  a  clear,  dry 
voice;  "  it  shall  be  as  you  wish,  Landry  the  twin. 
I  have  offered  you  your  pardon,  and  you  despise 
it.  Now  I  demand  the  promise  you  have  made  me, 
which  is  to  obey  my  command  the  day  I  shall  re- 
quire it  of  you.  That  day  shall  not  be  later  than 
to-morrow,  the  feast  of  St.  Andoche  ;  and  this  is 
what  I  wish  :  you  must  dance  three  times  with  me 
after  mass,  twice  again  after  vespers,  and  still  twice 
again  after  the  angelus.  That  will  make  seven 
times.  And  all  day  long,  from  the  moment  you 
get  up  till  you  go  to  bed,  you  must  not  dance 
with  anybody  else,  whether  she  be  girl  or  married 
woman.  If  you  fail  in  this,  I  shall  know  that  you 
have  three  very  ugly  qualities  :  ingratitude,  cow- 
ardice, and  want  of  faith.  Good-night.  To-morrow 
114 


FACIETTE 

I  shall  wait  for  you  at  the  door  of  the  church  to 
open  the  dance." 

And  little  Fadette,  whom  Landry  had  followed  to 
her  house,  drew  the  latch  and  entered  so  quickly 
that  the  door  was  shut  and  latched  before  the  twii? 
could  answer  a  word. 


lip 


CHAPTER    XIV 

LANDRY  thought  Fadette's  idea  so  odd  that  he 
_j  felt  more  inclined  to  laugh  than  to  be  an- 
noyed at  it. 

"  This  girl,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  is  more  foolish 
than  bad,  and  more  disinterested  than  one  would 
think ;  for  it  will  not  ruin  my  family  to  pay  her." 

Still,  as  he  thought  it  over,  the  acquittal  of  his 
debt  seemed  harder  than  he  had  supposed.  Little 
Fadette  danced  very  well ;  he  had  seen  her  gambol 
over  the  fields  and  the  roadsides  with  the  shepherds, 
and  she  danced  about  like  a  little  demon,  so  quickly 
that  her  partner  could  hardly  keep  time  with  her. 
But  she  was  so  far  from  pretty,  and  so  badly  dressed, 
even  on  Sundays,  that  no  boy  of  Landry's  age  would 
dance  with  her — above  all,  in  public.  It  was  very 
doubtful  whether  the  swineherds  and  farm  lads, 
who  had  not  as  yet  made  their  first  communion, 
would  think  her  fit  to  be  invited,  and  the  pretty 

116 


FADETTE 

country  girls  were  not  at  all  anxious  to  have  her 
dance  in  the  same  set  with  them.  Landry  felt  it 
very  humiliating  to  be  engaged  to  such  a  partner, 
and  when  he  remembered  that  he  had  asked  the 
fair  Madelon  to  dance  at  least  three  times  with  him, 
he  wondered  how  she  would  take  the  affront  which 
he  should  be  forced  to  offer  her  by  failing  to  claim 
his  privilege. 

As  he  was  cold  and  hungry,  and  felt  in  con- 
tinual dread  of  seeing  the  sprite  in  full  pursuit,  he 
strode  along  without  thinking  much,  and  without 
looking  behind.  As  soon  as  he  reached  home  he 
dried  himself,  and  told  his  family  how  he  had  not 
been  able  to  distinguish  the  ford  because  of  the 
darkness,  and  how  he  had  been  at  great  trouble  to 
get  out  of  the  water ;  but  he  was  ashamed  to  con- 
fess the  fear  he  had  felt,  and  he  did  not  say  a  word 
about  the  fairy  flame  or  little  Fadette.  He  went 
to  bed,  saying  to  himself  that  the  morrow  would 
be  quite  soon  enough  to  torment  himself  about  the 
consequences  of  his  unfortunate  adventure  ;  but  try 
as  he  would,  he  slept  very  badly.  He  dreamed 
more  than  fifty  times  that  he  saw  little  Fadette 
astride  of  the  hobgoblin,  which  looked  like  a  great 
red  cock  holding  in  one  of  its  claws  a  horn  lantern 

3*  II7 


FADETTE 

with  a  candle  inside,  the  rays  of  which  lighted  up 
all  the  rush-field.  Then  little  Fadette  was  changed 
into  a  cricket  as  big  as  a  goat,  and  kept  shouting 
to  him  in  a  cricket's  voice  a  song  which  he  could 
not  understand,  but  in  which  he  kept  distinguish- 
ing words  which  rhymed,  "  sprite,  light,  mate, 
late,  pack,  back."  The  noise  split  his  head,  and 
the  flame  of  the  will-o'-the-wisp  seemed  so  vivid 
and  restless  that  when  he  woke  up  he  still  saw 
those  little  balls,  black,  red,  or  blue,  which  dance 
before  our  eyes  when  we  have  looked  too  steadily 
at  the  disks  of  the  sun  or  moon. 

Landry  was  so  tired  out  by  his  bad  night  that  he 
dozed  all  through  the  mass,  and  did  not  hear  a 
word  of  the  sermon,  though  the  good  cure  praised 
and  glorified  to  the  full  the  virtues  and  charity  of 
St.  Andoche.  As  he  went  out  of  the  church, 
Landry  was  so  overcome  with  drowsiness  that  he 
had  forgotten  Fadette.  Yet  there  she  was,  in  front 
of  the  porch,  right  next  the  fair  Madelon,  who  was 
standing  there,  quite  certain  that  the  first  invita- 
tion would  be  for  her.  But  as  he  approached  to 
speak  to  her  he  could  not  help  seeing  the  Cricket, 
who  took  a  step  in  advance  with  unparalleled  as- 
surance, and  said  to  him  in  a  loud  voice : 
118 


FADETTE 

"  Come,  Landry,  last  evening  you  asked  me  for 
the  first  dance,  and  I  trust  that  we  are  not  going 
to  miss  it." 

Landry  grew  red  as  fire,  and  seeing  that  Madelon 
blushed,  too,  with  astonishment  and  indignation  at 
such  an  adventure,  he  plucked  up  courage  against 
little  Fadette. 

"I  may  have  promised  to  dance  with  you, 
Cricket,"  he  said  to  her;  "  but  I  had  asked  an- 
other before  you,  and  your  turn  will  come  after  I 
have  kept  my  first  engagement." 

"  Not  at  all,"  rejoined  Fadette  boldly.  "  Your 
memory  is  at  fault,  Landry,  since  the  promise  that 
I  claim  was  made  last  year,  and  last  night  you  only 
renewed  it.  If  Madelon  is  anxious  to  dance  with 
you  to-day,  there  is  your  twin,  who  is  exactly  like 
you,  and  she  may  take  him  in  your  place.  One  is 
as  good  as  the  other." 

"  The  Cricket  is  right,"  answered  Madelon, 
proudly,  taking  Sylvinet's  hand  ;  "since  you  have 
made  so  old  a  promise,  you  must  keep  it,  Landry. 
I  had  just  as  lief  dance  with  your  brother." 

11  Yes,  yes  ;  it  is  just  the  same  thing,"  said  Syl- 
vinet  artlessly  ;   "we  can  all  four  of  us  dance." 

Landry  was  obliged  to  consent  in  order  to  escape 
119 


FADETTE 

the  attention  of  the  crowd,  and  the  Cricket  began 
to  skip  with  so  much  elation  and  agility  that  no 
one  ever  kept  better  step  and  time.  If  she  had 
been  pretty  and  attractive,  it  would  have  been  a 
pleasure  to  see  her,  for  she  danced  admirably,  and 
there  was  not  a  pretty  girl  present  who  would  not 
have  been  glad  to  possess  her  lightness  and  ease  ; 
but  the  poor  Cricket  was  so  badly  dressed  that  she 
appeared  ten  times  uglier  than  usual.  Landry 
dared  no  longer  look  at  Madelon,  for  he  felt 
grieved  and  humiliated  by  his  conduct  toward  her, 
and  he  watched  his  partner,  whom  he  thought 
more  hideous  than  in  the  rags  she  wore  every  day  : 
she  had  tried  to  improve  herself,  and  her  bravery 
was  only  ridiculous. 

Her  cap  was  quite  yellow  from  being  long  packed 
away,  and  instead  of  being  small  and  well  tucked 
up  behind,  according  to  the  new  fashion  in  our 
country,  it  had  two  large  flat  flaps  on  each  side  of 
her  head,  and  in  the  back  the  cape  fell  down  over 
her  neck,  so  that  she  looked  like  her  grandmother, 
and  her  head  seemed  as  big  as  a  bushel  basket  on 
top  of  a  little  throat  as  slender  as  a  wand.  Her 
coarse  woolen  petticoat  was  two  fingers  too  short, 
and  as  she  had  grown  a  good  deal  in  the  past  year, 

120 


FADETTE 

her  lean  sunburnt  arms  stuck  out  of  her  sleeves  like 
spiders'  legs.  She  wore  a  crimson  apron,  of  which 
she  was  very  proud;  but  she  had  inherited  it  from 
her  mother,  and  had  never  thought  of  taking  off 
the  bib,  which  young  girls  had  not  worn  for  ten 
full  years.  She  was  no  coquette,  poor  girl,  and  it 
would  have  been  better  for  her  if  she  had  been ;  for 
she  lived  like  a  boy,  with  no  thought  for  her  per- 
son, and  caring  for  nothing  but  laughter  and  games. 
Now  she  looked  like  an  old  woman  in  Sunday  garb, 
and  she  was  despised  for  her  ugly  attire,  which  was 
not  the  result  of  poverty,  but  of  the  grandmother's 
avarice  and  the  granddaughter's  lack  of  taste. 


121 


CHAPTER    XV 

SYLVINET  thought  it  strange  that  his  twin  had 
taken  such  a  fancy  to  Fadette,  whom  he 
himself  disliked  still  more  than  Landry  did.  Lan- 
dry could  not  explain  the  situation,  and  wished 
that  the  earth  would  swallow  him.  Madelon  was 
much  displeased,  and  in  spite  of  the  animation 
Fadette  lent  to  the  dance,  their  faces  were  as  mel- 
ancholy as  if  they  were  at  a  funeral. 

After  the  first  dance  Landry  stole  off  and  went 
to  hide  in  his  orchard.  But  in  a  moment  little 
Fadette,  accompanied  by  the  Grasshopper,  who  was 
more  noisy  and  outrageous  than  usual,  because  of 
a  peacock's  feather  and  a  gilt  tassel  in  his  cap,  came 
to  hunt  him  up,  and  brought  with  her  a  band  of 
little  ragged  children ;  for  the  girls  of  her  own  age 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  her.  When  Lan- 
dry saw  her  coming  with  all  this  crew,  whom  she 
expected  to  use  as  witnesses  in  case  of  his  refusal, 

122 


FADETTE 

he  submitted  and  led  her  under  the  walnut-trees, 
looking  anxiously  for  a  corner  where  he  could 
dance  with  her  without  exciting  remark.  Fortu- 
nately for  him,  he  did  not  see  Sylvinet  or  Madelon, 
or  the  people  of  the  neighborhood,  and  he  was 
thankful  to  profit  by  the  opportunity  and  dance 
for  the  third  time  with  Fadette.  There  were  only 
strangers  about,  who  paid  no  attention  to  them. 

As  soon  as  the  dance  was  over,  he  ran  to  invite 
Madelon  to  share  some  porridge  with  him  under 
the  trees;  but  she  had  been  dancing  with  other 
young  men,  and  had  promised  to  allow  them  to 
treat  her,  and  so  she  refused  rather  disdainfully. 
Then,  when  she  saw  that  he  kept  in  a  corner,  and 
that  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears, — because  he  thought 
her  spite  and  vexation  made  her  look  prettier  than 
ever  before,  and  noticed  that  everybody  else  was  ad- 
miring her  too,  she  finished  eating  quickly,  and  said 
aloud,  as  she  rose  from  table  : 

"  Vespers  are  ringing  now,  and  whom  am  I  go- 
ing to  dance  with  afterward  ?  " 

She  turned  toward  Landry,  expecting  him  to  an- 
swer immediately  : 

"With  me!" 

But  before  he  could  open  his  lips,  other  young 
123 


FADETTE 

men  presented  themselves,  and  Madelon,  without 
deigning  to  give  him  one  pitying  or  reproachful 
look,  went  off  to  vespers  with  her  new  admirers. 

As  soon  as  vespers  were  over,  Madelon  started 
off  with  Pierre  Aubardeau,  followed  by  Jean  Ala- 
denise  and  Etienne  Alaphilippe,  and  danced  with 
one  after  the  other ;  for  she  could  not  want  at- 
tention, as  she  was  a  pretty  girl  and  not  without 
property.  Landry  watched  her  out  of  the  corners 
of  his  eyes,  while  little  Fadette  stayed  in  the 
church  after  the  others  had  gone,  repeating  long 
prayers ;  for  such  was  her  habit,  as  some  said,  be- 
cause of  her  great  piety,  and  as  others  said,  to  hide 
her  game  with  the  devil. 

Landry  was  very  sorry  that  Madelon  paid  no  at- 
tention to  him,  that  she  was  as  red  as  a  poppy 
with  pleasure,  and  that  she  had  already  forgotten 
the  affront  he  had  been  forced  to  offer  her.  He 
then  perceived  what  had  not  before  occurred  to 
him, —  that  she  might  possibly  be  a  coquette,  and 
that,  in  any  case,  she  could  not  be  much  attached 
to  him  since  she  enjoyed  herself  so  much  without 
him. 

It  is  true  that  he  knew  he  was  in  the  wrong  to- 
ward her,  at  least  to  all  appearance;  but  she  had 
124 


FADETTE 

seen  his  distress  when  they  were  under  the  walnut- 
trees,  and  she  might  have  guessed  that  there  was 
something  under  it  all  which  he  would  be  glad  to 
explain  to  her.  She  cared  not  at  all,  however,  and 
was  as  gay  as  a  young  kid,  while  his  own  heart 
was  bursting  with  grief. 

After  she  had  danced  with  her  three  partners, 
Landry  went  up  to  her,  trying  to  speak  to  her  in 
private  in  order  to  clear  himself  as  best  he  might. 
He  did  not  know  how  to  draw  her  aside,  for  he  was 
still  at  the  age  when  young  men  are  shy  with 
women,  and  could  find  no  appropriate  words.  He 
took  her  hand  to  lead  her  away,  and  then  she 
said  to  him,  with  an  air  of  mingled  petulance  and 
forgiveness : 

"Well,  Landry,  are  you  really  going  to  ask  me 
to  dance,  after  all  ?  " 

"  Not  to  dance,"  said  he  ;  for  he  did  not  know 
how  to  act  a  part,  and  had  no  idea  of  breaking  his 
word;  "  but  to  tell  you  something  to  which  you 
cannot  refuse  to  listen." 

"Oh,  if  you  have  a  secret  to  tell  me,  Landry,  it 
will  do  for  another  time,"  answered  Madelon,  pull- 
ing away  her  hand.  '*  To-day  is  the  day  for  danc- 
ing and  amusement.  I  am  not  tired  yet ;  and  since 
125 


FADETTE 

the  Cricket  has  exhausted  you,  go  to  bed,  if  you 
want.     I  am  going  to  stay." 

Thereupon  she  accepted  the  invitation  of  Ger- 
main Andoux,  who  came  up  to  ask  her  to  dance  ; 
and  as  she  turned  her  back  to  Landry,  he  heard 
Germain  say  of  him  : 

"  That  boy  seems  to  think  this  dance  is  fof 
him." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Madelon,  tossing  her  head; 
<cbut  he  need  not  think  that  he  has  me  under  his 
thumb." 

Landry  was  much  shocked  by  this  expression,  and 
stayed  near  the  dancers  to  watch  Madelon's  man- 
ners, which  were  not  positively  rude,  but  so  arro* 
gant  and  defiant  that  he  felt  vexed.  When  she 
approached  him  again,  and  saw  that  he  looked  at 
her  with  mocking  eyes,  she  said  to  him  in  bravado: 

"  Well,  Landry,  you  cannot  find  a  partner  to- 
day. I  declare  that  you  will  be  obliged  to  return* 
to  the  Cricket." 

"I  shall  return  to  her  with  a  good  grace,"  an- 
swered Landry  ;  "  for  if  she  is  not  the  prettiest  girl 
here,  she  is  certainly  the  best  dancer." 

Then  he  ran  off  to  look  round  the  church  for 
little  Fadette,  and  brought  her  back  to  the  dance, 
126 


FADETTE 

right  opposite  Madelon,  and  danced  twice  with  her 
in  the  same  place.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  how 
proud  and  happy  the  Cricket  was !  She  did  not 
attempt  to  hide  her  satisfaction;  her  roguish  black 
eyes  glistened,  and  she  threw  back  her  little  head 
crowned  with  its  great  cap  like  a  crested  hen. 

As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  her  triumph  gave  an- 
noyance to  five  or  six  little  ragamuffins  who  were 
in  the  habit  of  dancing  with  her.  They  had  never 
snubbed  her,  but  had  always  admired  her  on  ac- 
count of  her  good  dancing  ;  and  when  they  now 
found  it  impossible  to  approach  her,  they  began  to 
criticize  her,  to  accuse  her  of  being  high  and  mighty, 
and  to  whisper  loud  enough  for  her  to  hear : 

"  See  the  Cricket  trying  to  bewitch  Landry 
Barbeau  !  " 

And  then  followed  a  shower  of  abusive  nick 
names,  after  the  manner  of  the  country. 


127 


CHAPTER    XVI 


THEN,  whenever  little  Fadette  passed  near 
them,  they  would  pull  her  sleeve,  or  stick 
out  a  foot  to  trip  her  up,  and,  among  the  youngest 
and  roughest,  there  were  even  some  who  hit  the 
flap  of  her  cap,  and  knocked  it  from  one  ear  to 
the  other,  crying  out : 

"Hurrah  for  Mother  Fadet's  big  helmet!" 

The  poor  child  struck  out  five  or  six  times  to 
right  and  left ;  but  it  served  only  to  call  attention 
in  her  direction,  and  the  people  who  knew  her 
began  to  say : 

"  Only  see  how  lucky  our  Cricket  is  to-day 
that  Landry  Barbeau  dances  with  her  all  the  time! 
She  certainly  dances  well,  but  she  is  putting  on  the 
airs  of  a  pretty  girl,  and  struts  about  like  a  magpie." 

Some  of  them  said  to  Landry : 

"Has  she  really  bewitched  you,  poor  Landry, 
that  you  look  at  nobody  else  ?  Or  do  you  want  to 
128 


FADETTE 

learn  magic,  and  let  us  see  you  soon  driving  the 
wolves  to  pasture  ?  " 

Landry  was  mortified  ;  but  Sylvinet,  who  thought 
his  brother  the  finest  fellow  in  the  world,  was  still 
more  so  when  he  saw  him  the  laughing-stock  of 
everybody,  even  of  the  strangers  who  began  to 
take  an  interest  in  what  was  going  on.  They  kept 
asking  questions,  and  said  : 

"  He  is  a  good-looking  fellow,  but  it  is  odd  that 
he  should  make  up  to  the  very  ugliest  girl  in  the 
whole  place." 

Madelon  came  up  triumphantly  to  listen  to  all 
these  jeers,  and  joined   in  them   without   mercy: 

"  What  can  you  expect  ?  "  said  she  ;  "  Landry  is 
still  a  little  child,  and  at  his  age,  if  a  boy  finds  a 
girl  to  speak  to,  he  does  not  care  whether  she  is  a 
scarecrow  or  whether  she  looks  like  a  Christian." 

Sylvinet  took  Landry  by  the  arm,  and  said  to 
him  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  Come  home,  brother,  or  else  we  shall  be 
drawn  into  a  quarrel  ;  they  are  making  fun  of  us, 
and  any  insult  offered  to  little  Fadette  reflects  on 
you.  I  do  not  know  what  made  you  think  of 
dancing  with  her  to-day  four  or  five  times  in  suc- 
cession. It  looks  as  if  you  were  trying  to  make 
9  129 


FADETTE 

people  laugh  at  you.  Do  stop  amusing  yourself  in 
this  way.  She  may  expose  herself  to  the  harsh- 
ness and  scorn  of  the  crowd,  if  she  chooses ;  she 
likes  that  sort  of  thing,  and  has  a  taste  for  it,  but 
we  have  not.  Let  us  go  off ;  we  will  come  back 
after  the  angelus,  and  you  can  dance  with  Madelon, 
who  is  a  well-behaved  girl.  I  have  always  told  you 
that  you  were  too  fond  of  dancing,  and  that  your 
love  for  it  would  lead  you  into  some  folly." 

Landry  followed  for  a  few  steps,  but  turned  on 
hearing  a  great  uproar,  and  saw  that  Madelon  and 
the  other  girls  had  given  up  little  Fadette  to  the 
derision  of  their  young  men,  and  that  some  little 
rogues,  encouraged  by  the  laughter  they  excited, 
had  just  knocked  off  her  cap.  Her  long,  black 
hair  was  streaming  down  over  her  shoulders,  and 
she  was  struggling  in  her  rage  and  distress.  She 
had  said  nothing  deserving  such  ill-treatment,  and 
was  crying  with  anger,  unable  to  recover  her  cap, 
which  a  naughty  boy  was  in  the  act  of  carrying 
off  on  the  end  of  a   stick. 

Landry  was  indignant,  and  rebelling  against  such 

injustice,  he  caught  hold  of  the  ragamuffin,  and 

snatched  away  the  cap,  and  then  the  stick,  making 

use  of  it  to  administer  a  sound  drubbing.    Then  he 

130 


FADETTE 

went  back  to  the  rest,  who  fled  at  his  approach ; 
and  taking  the  poor  Cricket  by  the  hand,  he  re- 
turned her  cap  to  her. 

Landry's  vigorous  action,  and  the  terror  of  the 
little  boys,  made  the  spectators  laugh  heartily. 
They  applauded  Landry ;  but  Madelon  turned  the 
tide  against  him,  and  there  were  some  boys  of  Lan- 
dry's age,  and  even  some  who  were  older  than  he, 
who  seemed  to  be  laughing  at  his  expense. 

Landry  was  no  longer  mortified ;  he  was  con- 
scious of  his  strength  and  courage,  and  a  certain 
feeling  of  manhood  told  him  that  he  was  doing  his 
duty  in  saving  a  woman  from  ill-treatment,  whether 
she  were  pretty  or  ugly,  big  or  little,  so  long  as 
he  had  taken  her  for  his  partner  in  the  presence  of 
the  whole  company.  He  observed  the  manner  in 
which  Madelon's  friends  were  staring  at  him,  and 
he  strode  straight  up  to  Aladenise  and  Alaphilippe, 
and  said  to  them  : 

"What  have  the  rest  of  you  to  say  to  me  ?  If  I 
think  fit  to  pay  attention  to  that  girl,  what  busi- 
ness is  it  of  yours?  If  you  have  any  objection,  why 
do  you  turn  away  and  whisper  about  it?  Am  not 
I  here  in  front  of  you,  and  do  not  you  see  me? 
Somebody  said  that  I  was  a  little  child;  but  there 

>3' 


FADETTE 

is  not  a  man  present,  or  even  a  big  boy,  who  dare 
say  it  to  my  face.  I  am  waiting  for  you  to  speak, 
and  then  we  shall  see  whether  anybody  will  molest 
the  girl  who  dances  withua  little  child  like  me." 

Sylvinet  had  not  left  his  brother's  side,  and  al- 
though he  did  not  approve  the  grounds  of  the  quar- 
rel, he  was  ready  to  maintain  it.  Four  or  five  of 
the  young  men  were  a  head  taller  than  the  twins; 
but  as  they  saw  them  so  resolute,  and  were  them- 
selves reluctant  to  fight  on  such  small  provoca- 
tion, they  did  not  breathe  a  word,  but  looked  at 
one  another  to  see  which  meant  to  measure  his 
strength  with  Landry.  No  one  stepped  forward, 
and  Landry,  who  had  not  let  go  Fadette's  hand, 
said  to  her : 

"  Put  on  your  cap  quickly,  Fanchon,  and  let  us 
dance,  so  that  I  can  see  if  anybody  will  try  to  take 
it  off." 

"No,"  said  little  Fadette,  drying  her  tears.  "  I 
have  danced  enough  to-day,  and  I  will  not  hold  you 
to  the  rest." 

11  No,  no;  we  must  dance  again,"  said  Landry, 
v/ho  was  all  aflame  with  pride  and  courage.  "  No 
one  shall  say  that  you  cafinot  dance  with  me  with- 
out being  insulted." 

132 


FADETTE 

He  made  her  dance  again,  and  nobody  said  a  word 
to  him,  or  looked  at  him  askance.  Madelon  and 
her  admirers  had  gone  off  to  dance  in  another  place. 
After  the  dance  was  over,  little  Fadette  said  to  Lan- 
dry in  a  low  tone  : 

"Now  I  have  had  enough,  Landry;  I  am  satis- 
fied with  you,  and  I  let  you  off  your  promise.  I  am 
going  home,  and  you  may  dance  this  evening  with 
whom  you  please." 

She  ran  after  her  little  brother,  who  was  quarrel- 
ing with  the  other  children,  and  then  disappeared 
so  quickly  that  Landry  could  not  even  see  which 
way  she  went. 

Landry  ate  his  supper  at  home  with  his  brother. 
He  found  Sylvinet  so  despondent  over  what  had 
happened  that  he  told  him  how  he  had  encountered 
the  will-o'-the-wisp  on  the  previous  evening,  and 
how  little  Fadette  had  saved  him,  either  by  cour- 
age or  magic,  and,  as  her  reward,  had  asked  him  to 
dance  with  her  seven  times  on  the  feast  of  St.  An- 
doche.  He  said  nothing  of  the  rest,  as  he  was  un- 
willing to  admit  how  terribly  he  had  feared  the 
possibility  of  finding  Sylvinet  drowned  the  year  be- 
fore ;  and  he  did  wisely^for  the  evil  ideas  which 
children  sometimes  take  into  their  heads  are  apt 
9*  133 


FADETTE 

to  return  if  people  pay  too  much  attention  to  such 
things,  or  even  mention  thern!) 

Sylvinet  was  glad  that  his  brother  had  kept  his 
word,  and  told  Landry  that  the  annoyance  he  had 
suffered  only  increased  his  respect  for  him.  Though 
he  was  terrified  at  the  thought  of  Landry's  peril  in 
the  river,  he  felt  no  gratitude  toward  little  Fadette. 
She  was  so  repulsive  to  him  that  he  was  unwilling 
«;o  believe  she  had  met  his  brother  by  accident,  or 
helped  him  out  of  kindness. 

"It  is  she,"  said  he,  "who  conjured  up  the 
sprite  to  confuse  your  brain,  and  make  you  drown; 
but  God  would  not  allow  her  to  succeed,  because 
you  were  not  then,  and  never  have  been,  in  a  state 
of  deadly  sin.  That  bad  Cricket,  abusing  your 
good  nature  and  gratitude,  cajoled  you  into  a  prom- 
ise which  she  knew  would  prove  troublesome  and 
hurtful  to  you.  That  girl  is  very  wicked ;  all 
witches  love  evil,  and  they  are  all  bad.  She  knew 
that  she  would  get  you  into  trouble  with  Madelon 
and  your  respectable  acquaintances.  She  wanted  to 
make  you  fight,  too  ;  and  if  God  had  not  protected 
you  against  her  for  the  second  time,  you  might 
have  been  drawn  into  a  serious  quarrel,  and  have 
fallen  into  misfortune." 

134 


FADHTTE 

Landry  was  in  the  habit  of  seeing  things  through 
his  brother's  eyes,  and  thinking  that  Sylvinet  might 
be  in  the  right,  did  not  attempt  to  defend  Fadette 
against  him.  They  talked  together  of  the  will-o'- 
the-wisp,  which  Sylvinet  had  never  beheld,  and 
which  he  was  very  curious  to  hear  of,  without  the 
slightest  desire  to  see  it.  They  dared  not  speak  of 
it  to  their  mother,  for  the  bare  thought  of  it 
alarmed  her ;  nor  to  their  father,  for  he  laughed  at 
it,  and  had  seen  it  twenty  times  without  paying 
any  attention  to  it. 

The  dancing  was  to  continue  till,  late  at  night, 
but  Landry,  sick  at  heart  because  he  had  broken 
with  Madelon,  was  unwilling  to  profit  by  the  free- 
dom which  Fadette  had  allowed  him,  and  went 
to  help  his  brother  drive  the  cattle  home  from 
pasture.  The  road  brought  him  half  way  to  the 
Priche,  and  as  his  head  was  aching,  he  said  good- 
night to  his  brother  at  the  end  of  the  rush-field. 
Sylvinet  was  unwilling  to  let  him  cross  the  ford 
of  the  Roulettes,  lest  the  will-o'-the-wisp  or  the 
Cricket  should  play  him  some  evil  turn.  He  made 
him  promise  to  go  the  longest  way,  round  by  the 
foot-bridge  near  the  big  mill. 

Landry  followed  his  brother's  wishes,  and    in- 

«35 


FADETTE 

stead  of  crossing  the  rush-field,  he  went  along  the 
wooded  pathway  that  skirts  the  side  of  Chaumois 
Hill.  He  was  not  afraid,  because  the  noise  of  mer- 
riment still  lingered  in  the  air.  He  heard  at  a 
distance  the  bagpipes  and  the  shouts  of  the  dancers 
at  the  festival,  and  he  was  aware  that  spirits  work 
no  spells  when  the  neighborhood  is  not  asleep. 

When  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill,  he  heard 
something  sobbing  and  crying  beside  the  road. 
At  first  he  took  it  for  the  curlew,  but  as  he  drew 
nearer,  he  was  sure  that  the  voice  was  human, 
and  as  his  courage  never  failed  him  when  he  had 
to  deal  with  beings  of  his  own  kind,  especially 
those  in  need  of  help,  he  jumped  down  into  the 
most  sunken  part  of  the  road. 

The  person  who  was  weeping  became  silent  at 
the  sound  of  his  footsteps. 

"Who  is  crying  here?"  he  asked  in  a  resolute 
voice. 

Nobody  answered. 

"Is  there  a  sick  person  here?"  said  he  again. 

As   there  was  no    reply,   he  was  about  to   go 

ahead  ;   but  he  wished  first  to  search  among  the 

stones  and  the  big  thistles  which  obstructed  the 

place,  and  he  soon  saw  by  the  light  of  the  rising 

136 


FADETTE 

moon  a  figure  stretched  out  at  length  on  the 
ground,  the  feet  toward  him,  motionless  as  a  dead 
body  ;  and  he  was  at  first  uncertain  whether  it  were 
really  one,  or  a  living  person  who  had  flung  herself 
down  there  in  great  affliction,  and,  to  escape  de- 
tection, did  not  stir. 

As  yet  Landry  had  never  seen  or  touched  a  dead 
body.  The  idea  that  this  might  be  one  caused 
him  great  emotion  ;  but  he  overcame  it,  because 
he  thought  it  his  duty  to  help  his  neighbor,  and 
he  walked  up  resolutely  to  feel  the  hand  of  the 
person  lying  there,  who,  seeing  it  impossible  to 
avoid  recognition,  half  rose  at  his  approach ;  and 
then  Landry  knew  it  was  little  Fadette. 


»37 


H 


MIAI'lli'      .-    /  II 

Li  ■  i>i-  i  vi   %n$ry  ..i  flf*i  i.,  find  iini'  i .-'!- nr 
^      =  '.    '  '.(.'ill.    .ill  /     III     III        |;.ll|l    j      \fU\    .1 

I-.    I.'     n,    -li    '■  !■  Ii.     !',',!■    tt||  -j  »,i,    I  j  -  I  i  lii      I      Mi' 

/'  i     il  I'.n    Hi'    /    Ii.mI    I',;/'  lli<  t 

'  // .    id  ii  y',u(  (  rjckftj  -  tying   •> )     Did 

body    tfito    /-.ii  .,i  - !,..  .    r,n,  iii.ii  y'.M  in'i  I.*  M- 
i'.  //•  i  p 

"  | ...  i  ni'ii  •/  j  uobod  /  ii '  moli  i'  'i  in'  ■•in'  <■ 
y,i  (.!',!■  - 1-  'l  mi  o  I'M/1 1  /  ,  .in'i,  hi  f?ld<  ,  l  -mi 
I,-. i  afraid  ol  mi ybod  /      I  hid  hef<   to  >  i  y ,  i fifii  I 

.lllfc',1       |l       I  /'I/      l',',!l      ll       I'.  II'.//       /'.Ml       ll'.lllll'        I'l 

olhi  i  I-'  upU  "1 

'  '   Cut       //Ii  j     |f|       y.M      in      -wli     '!  i  '  .nil  ill      I  i', ul, I'    x 

i    iii...    i  .    [hey     •■  m     q  '"■'■    to  you  to  d 

ll     // 1{     |,  ii  I  ly     /'.hi    './/ii    I. mil    j     I. ul     y.u     mu    I     f<,i 

,-■    I       |f.        Hi' I        li',l        I    .  /        /'.Ul      .11      '.(.<    II        I'.         'I'll       1 1'     ll 

i .  i  •  i ,  I      . :  |  1 1 1 1    " 

"  v/ii  /  .I.,  you  ■  i  i  thai  i1  //  ■  r  "  lly  m  /  fault , 
j  .nrii  y  /•     i Hd  i  i"  ull    /'"•  by   ^li  hlng   to  d  mi  I 


- 

u 


FADETTE 

nothing  like  a  girl  about  you,  and  your  manners 
and  appearance  are  just  like  a  boy's ;  and  then  you 
take  no  care  of  your  person.  In  the  first  place,  you 
do  not  look  neat  and  clean,  and  your  dress  and  your 
way  of  speaking  make  you  seem  ugly.  You  know 
that  the  children  call  you  by  a  much  worse  name 
than  Cricket.  They  often  call  you  the  "  Tomboy." 
Well,  do  you  think  it  is  nice  not  to  look  like  a 
girl  at  sixteen  ?  You  climb  trees  like  a  regular  squir- 
rel, and  when  you  jump  on  a  mare  without  saddle 
or  bridle,  you  gallop  off  as  if  the  devil  were  after 
you.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  be  strong  and  agile;  it 
is  a  good  thing,  too,  to  be  afraid  of  nothing,  and  it 
is  a  natural  advantage  for  a  man.  But  for  a  wo- 
man there  is  such  a  thing  as  too  much,  and  you 
seem  to  want  to  attract  attention.  So  people  stare 
at  you,  tease  you,  and  shout  at  you  as  they  do 
at  a  wolf.  You  are  clever,  and  give  sharp  an- 
swers, which  are  amusing  to  those  whom  you  are 
not  trying  to  provoke.  It  is  a  good  thing,  again,  to 
be  cleverer  than  other  people  ;  but  if  your  wit  is  too 
apparent,  you  will  make  enemies.  You  are  inquisi- 
tive, and  when  you  have  found  out  other  people's 
secrets,  you  cast  them  in  their  faces  very  cruelly 
the  moment  you  have  any  cause  for  complaint.  So 
140 


FADETTE 

people  fear  you  ;  if  they  fear  you,  they  will  hate 
you,  and  will  give  worse  than  they  get.  In  short, 
whether  you  are  a  witch  or  not,  —  and  I  am  willing 
io  believe  that  you  have  uncommon  knowledge, 
although  I  hope  you  have  not  tampered  with  evil 
spirits, — you  try  to  make  people  believe  that  you 
are  one,  in  order  to  terrify  your  enemies;  and  you 
are  earning  a  very  unenviable  reputation  by  so  do- 
ing. These  are  your  faults,  Fanchon  Fadet,  and  it  is 
because  of  these  faults  that  nobody  likes  you.  Think 
it  over  a  little,  and  you  will  see  that  if  you  are  willing  \ 
to  be  more  like  the  rest  of  us,  people  will  be  more 
apt  to  appreciate  your  superior  intelligencer 

"  I  thank  you,  Landry,"  answered  little  Fadette, 
very  earnestly,  after  listening  religiously  to  all  that 
the  twin  had  to  say.  "  You  have  found  fault  with 
me  like  everybody  else,  but  you  have  done  so  with 
tact  and  kindness,  and  that  is  more  than  others  do; 
but  now  will  you  let  me  answer  you,  and  that  I 
may  do  so,  will  you  sit  down  by  my  side  for  just 
a  moment  ?" 

"  It  is  not  a  very  nice  place,"  said  Landry,  who 
was  not  particularly  anxious  to  stay  with  her,  and 
who  was  still  thinking  of  the  evil  spells  she  was  ac- 
cused of  casting  over  those  least  expecting  them. 
141 


^v 


FADETTE 

11  You  do  not  think  it  a  nice  place,"  answered 
she,  "because  you  rich  people  are  hard  to  please. 
You  must  have  soft  turf  to  sit  on,  out  of  doors,  and 
in  your  meadows  and  gardens  you  can  choose  the 
most  beautiful  spots  and  the  thickest  shade.  But 
those  who  have  nothing  do  not  ask  so  much  of 
God,  and  use  the  first  stone  they  meet  as  a  pillow 
for  their  heads.  Thorns  do  not  wound  their  feet, 
and  wherever  they  are,  they  observe  everything 
that  is  attractive  and  lovely  in  heaven  and  on  earth. 
/No  place  is  ugly  to  those  who  understand  the  virtues  | 
V  and  sweetness  of  everything  that  God  has  made. 7/ 
Without  being  a  witch,  I  know  the  uses  of  the 
smallest  herbs  which  you  crush  underfoot,  and 
when  I  understand  what  they  are  good  for,  I  take 
pleasure  in  them,  and  despise  neither  their  perfume 
nor  their  form.  I  say  this,  Landry,  so  that  I  may 
now  tell  you  something  else,  which  relates  to  Chris- 
tian souls  as  well  as  to  garden  flowers  and  roadside 
weeds :  it  is  that  we  are  too  apt  to  despise  what 
appears  to  be  neither  good  nor  beautiful,  and  thus 


we  lose  what  is  helpful  and  salutary." 

"  I  do  not  understand  very  well  what  you  mean," 

said  Landry,  sitting  down  beside  her. 

Neither  spoke  for  a  minute,  for  little   Fadette's 
142 


FADETTE 

mind  had  soared  away  to  ideas  unknown  to  Lan- 
dry ;  and  although  his  own  head  was  somewhat 
confused,  he  could  not  help  listening  with  pleasure 
to  the  girl ;  for  he  had  never  heard  a  voice  so  sweet 
or  thoughts  so  well  expressed  as  the  voice  and 
thoughts  of  little  Fadette  at  that  moment. 

"  Listen,  Landry,"  said  she  to  him.  "  I  am  more 
to  be  pitied  than  blamed  ;  and  if  I  have  wronged 
myself,  I  have  at  least  never  done  serious  harm  to 
others,  and  if  people  were  more  just  and  reasonable, 
they  would  pay  more  attention  to  my  good  heart 
than  to  my  ugly  face  and  shabby  clothes.  Think  a 
minute,  or  let  me  tell  you  if  you  do  not  know  it 
already,  what  my  life  has  been  since  I  was  born.  I 
shall  speak  no  ill  of  my  poor  mother,  whom  every- 
body insults  and  blames,  although  she  is  away  and 
cannot  defend  herself,  and  lam  powerless  to  help  her; 
for  I  do  not  even  know  how  greatly  she  sinned,  or 
how  much  she  was  tempted.  Well,  the  world  is  so 
evil  that  just  after  my  mother  had  left  me,  while 
I  was  still  weeping  bitterly  for  her  loss,  at  the  least 
quarrel  the  other  children  had  with  me,  whether 
it  were  over  a  game  or  a  mere  nothing,  which  they 
would  have  easily  forgiven  one  another,  they  cast 
my  mother's  shame  in  my  face,  and  tried  to  make 
«43 


FADETTE 

me  blush  for  her.  In  my  place,  perhaps,  a  sensible 
girl,  such  as  you  describe,  would  have  been  abashed 
into  silence,  thinking  it  prudent  to  abandon  the 
cause  of  her  mother,  and  to  let  her  suffer  the  in- 
sults which  she  herself  thus  escaped.  But,  you  see, 
I  could  not  do  so.  It  was  more  than  I  could  stand. 
My  mother  is  always  my  mother  ;  and  no  matter 
what  she  is,  and  whether  I  ever  see  her  again,  or 
whether  I  never  hear  of  her  any  more,  I  shall  always 
love  her  with  my  whole  heart.  So,  when  they  call 
me  the  child  of  a  camp-follower  and  a  vivandiere, 
I  am  angry,  not  on  my  own  account, —  for  I  know 
that  it  cannot  hurt  me,  as  I  have  done  no  wrong, — 
but  because  of  that  poor  dear  woman  whom  it  is 
my  duty  to  defend.  And,  as  I  cannot  defend  her, 
for  I  do  not  know  how,  I  take  my  revenge  by  show- 
ing them  that  they  are  no  better  than  my  mother, 
4t  whom  they  cast  their  stones.  That  i:  why  they 
say  that  I  am  inquisitive  and  impertinent,  and  that 
I  try  to  find  out  their  secrets  in  order  to  make  them 
public.  It  is  true  that  God  made  me  inquisitive, 
if  you  call  it  inquisitive  to  wish  to  know  hidden 
things  ;  but  if  I  had  been  kindly  and  decently 
treated,  I  should  not  have  thought  of  satisfying 
vny  curiosity  at  the  expense  of  my  neighbor.  I 
144 


FADETTE 

should  have  confined  my  amusement  to  learning 
such  secrets  for  the  cure  of  the  human  body  as  my 
grandmother  teaches  me.  Flowers,  herbs,  stones, 
insects, —  all  the  secrets  of  nature  would  have  fur- 
nished me  with  enough  occupation  and  pleasure. 
As  I  love  to  roam  about  and  examine  everything, 
I  might  have  been  alone  all  the  time  without 
knowing  what  it  is  to  be  bored ;  for  my  greatest 
pleasure  is  to  go  off  to  those  spots  which  nobody 
knows,  and  to  spend  my  time  there  in  dreaming 
of  fifty  things  yyhicK  I  have  never  even  heard 
mentioned  by  people  who  think  themselves  very 
wise  and  thoughtful.  If  I  have  allowed  myself  to 
have  dealings  with  acquaintances,  it  is  because  I 
was  anxious  to  help  them  with  the  little  knowledge  I 
have  acquired  for  myself,  and  out  of  which  my  grand- 
mother often  makes  her  own  profit,  without  a  word. 
When  I  healed  the  wounds  and  ailments  of  the 
children  of  my  own  age,  and  taught  them  my  rem- 
edies without  the  least  thought  of  payment,  in- 
stead of  thanking  me,  they  treated  me  like  a  witch ; 
and  those  who  came  to  ask  my  advice  very  politely 
when  they  stood  in  need  of  my  services,  were 
very  rude  to  me  the  next  time  they  found  an 
opportunity. 

145 


FADETTE 

11  That  made  me  angry,  and  I  might  have  done 
them  harm;  for  if  I  know  helpful  things,  I  know 
hurtful  things  as  well  ;  but  I  have  never  been 
willing  to  use  them  ;  I  do  not  bear  malice,  and  if 
I  revenge  myself  in  words,  it  is  because  I  feel  re- 
lieved by  saying  immediately  what  comes  to  the 
tip  of  my  tongue,  and  then  I  forgive  and  forget, 
according  to  God's  commandment.  If  I  take  no 
care  of  my  person  and  manners,  it  should  teach 
you  that  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to  think  myself 
pretty,  when  I  know  that  1  am  so  ugly  that  no- 
body can  bear  the  sight  of  me.  I  have  heard  so 
often  enough  to  be  sure  of  it ;  and  when  I  see 
how  harsh  and  disdainful  people  are  to  those  who 
have  few  of  the  good  gifts  of  God,  I  take  pleasure 
in  shocking  them,  and  comfort  myself  in  the 
thought  that  my  face  cannot  be  repulsive  to  God 
or  to  my  guardian  angel,  who  will  no  more  ob- 
ject to  it  in  me  than  I  object  to  receiving  it  from 
them.  1  do  not  belong  to  those  who  say  :  '  There 
is  a  caterpillar, —  an  ugly  brute, — oh,  how  hideous 
it  is !  We  must  kill  it ! '  I  do  not  crush  God's  poor 
creature;  and  if  the  caterpillar  fall  into  the  water,  I 
hold  out  a  leaf  to  it  to  save  its  life.  On  account 
of  this,  they  say  1  like  noxious  creatures,  and  that 
146 


FADETTE 

I  am  a  witch,  because  I  do  not  like  to  hurt  a  frog, 
to  pull  off  the  legs  of  a  wasp,  or  to  nail  a  bat 
against  a  tree.  'Poor  creature,'  I  say,  'if  every 
ugly  thing  ought  to  die,  I  should  have  no  more 
right  to  live  than  you  ! '  " 


147 


CHAPTER    XVIII 


SO  ME  H  OW  or  other,  Landry  was  moved  by  the 
way  in  which  little  Fadette  spoke  so  humbly 
and  quietly  of  her  ugliness,  and  calling  to  mind 
her  face,  which  he  could  not  see  in  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  he  said  to  her,  without  a  thought 
of  flattery  : 

"  But,  Fadette,  you  are  not  so  ugly  as  you  think 
you  are,  or  as  you  try  to  make  out.  There  are 
other  girls  far  more  unattractive  than  you,  whom 
no  one  criticizes." 

"  Whether  I  am  a  little  less  ugly  or  positively 
hideous,  Landry,  you  cannot  say  that  I  am  a  pretty 
girl.  Come,  do  not  try  to  comfort  me ;  for  I  do  not 
feel  badly  about  it." 

"Who  knows  how  you  would  look  if  you  were 
well  dressed,  and  had  on  a  cap  like  other  girls! 
There  is  one  thing  that,  everybody  says,  and  that 
is,  that  if  your  nose  were  not  so  short,  and  your 

148 


FADETTE 

mouth  were  not  so  large,  and  your  skin  were  not 
so  dark,  you  would  not  be  at  all  bad  looking;  for 
they  say,  too,  that  there  is  not  another  pair  of  eyes 
like  yours  in  all  the  country  round,  and  if  their 
expression  were  not  so  bold  and  sarcastic,  anybody 
would  like  to  have  a  kind  look  out  of  them." 

Landry  spoke  thus  without  being  much  aware 
of  what  he  was  saying.  He  found  himself  recall- 
ing the  good  and  bad  points  of  little  Fadette,  and, 
for  the  first  time,  he  paid  more  attention  to  the 
subject  than  he  would  have  thought  possible  a  few 
minutes  earlier.  She  noticed  it,  though  she  pre- 
tended not  to  do  so ;  for  she  was  too  clever  to  take 
it  seriously. 

"  My  eyes  look  kindly  on  everything  that  is 
good,"  said  she,  "  and  with  pity  on  what  is  not. 
1  do  not  mind  displeasing  people  who  do  not  please 
me,  and  I  cannot  imagine  how  all  those  pretty 
girls  whom  I  see  courted,  are  so  coquettish  toward 
everybody,  as  if  everybody  were  to  their  taste.  As 
for  me,  if  I  were  pretty,  I  should  wish  only  to  be 
admired  and  thought  attractive  by  the  one  person 
I  cared  about." 

Landry's  mind  reverted  to  Madelon ;  but  little 
Fadette  did  not  let  his  thoughts  rest.  She  went  on : 
149 


FADETTE 

"All  the  wrong  I  have  done  to  other  people, 
then,  Landry,  is  that  I  never  asked  their  pity  or  in- 
dulgence for  my  ugliness,  but  showed  it  without 
any  attempt  at  embellishment  or  disguise;  and  that 
is  such  a  great  offense  that  they  forget  how  I  have 
often  done  them  a  good  turn,  and  never  a  bad  one. 
On  the  other  hand,  even  if  I  took  care  of  my 
appearance,  how  should  I  find  money  for  finery? 
Have  I  ever  begged,  although  I  have  not  a  penny 
to  my  name  ?  Does  my  grandmother  give  me  any- 
thing except  board  and  lodging?  And  if  I  don't 
know  how  to  make  the  best  of  the  poor  rags  my 
mother  left  me, —  is  it  my  fault,  as  long  as  no- 
body has  ever  taught  me,  and  as  I  have  been  left 
to  myself  since  I  was  ten  years  old,  with  nobody 
to  love  or  care  for  me  ?  I  know  the  fault  that  people 
find  with  me,  though  you  have  been  kind  enough 
not  to  speak  of  it.  They  say  that  I  am  sixteen, 
and  could  very  well  take  a  situation,  and  that  then 
1  should  have  wages  and  money  enough  to  support 
myself;  but  that  my  love  of  idleness  and  doing  as 
I  please  keeps  me  with  my  grandmother,  though 
she  is  not  at  all  fond  of  me,  and  has  plenty  of 
means  to  hire  a  servant." 

"  Well,  Fadette,  is  that  not  true  ?"  said  Landry. 
150 


FADETTE 

"You  are  blamed  for  not  liking  to  work,  and  even 
your  grandmother  says  to  anybody  who  is  willing 
to  listen  to  her,  that  it  would  be  an  advantage  to 
her  to  keep  a  servant  in  your  place." 

"  My  grandmother  says  that  because  she  likes  to 
scold  and  complain.  But  whenever  I  talk  of  leav- 
ing her,  she  insists  upon  my  staying,  because  she 
knows  very  well  that  1  am  more  useful  to  her  than 
she  cares  to  admit.  Her  eyes  are  not  so  good,  nor 
her  legs  so  young,  as  they  once  were  to  help  her  in 
her  search  for  herbs,  some  of  which  grow  far  away 
in  very  inaccessible  places,  and  are  necessary  for  her 
potions  and  powders.  Besides,  I  have  already  told 
you  that  I  can  find  in  herbs  virtues  she  knows  nothing 
of,  and  she  is  much  astonished  when  she  sees  the 
good  effect  of  the  medicines  I  compound.  Our  ani- 
mals are  in  such  fine  condition  that  everybody  is 
surprised,  as  it  is  known  we  have  no  pasturage  ex- 
cept that  of  the  parish.  My  grandmother  is  well 
aware  to  whom  she  owes  the  fine  wool  of  her 
sheep  and  the  good  milk  of  her  goats.  I  can  tell 
you  that  she  is  not  anxious  to  let  me  go,  and  I  am 
worth  more  than  I  cost  her.  I  love  my  grand- 
mother, although  she  is  cross  to  me  and  deprives 
me  of  many  things.  But  I  have  another  reason  for 
151 


FADETTE 

not  leaving  her,  and  I  will  tell  it  if  you  want  to 
hear  it,  Landry." 

"  Very  well,  tell  it  to  me,"  answered  Landry, 
who  was  not  weary  of  listening  to  Fadette. 

"  When  I  was  only  ten  years  old,  my  mother 
left  to  my  care  a  poor  ugly  child,  as  ugly  as  I  am, 
and  still  more  unfortunate,  because  he  has  been  a 
cripple  from  his  birth,  puny,  sickly,  and  always  in 
some  trouble  or  mischief,  as  he  is  always  suffering, 
poor  fellow  !  And  everybody  torments  him,  re- 
pulses him,  and  calls  him  names,  poor  Grasshopper! 
My  grandmother  scolds  him  roughly,  and  would 
beat  him  if  I  did  not  protect  him  against  her,  and 
pretend  to  thrash  him  in  her  place.  But  I  always 
take  great  care  not  to  hurt  him  in  earnest,  and  he 
knows  it  very  well !  As  soon  as  he  does  wrong, 
he  runs  to  hide  in  my  petticoats,  and  says  to  me : 
'Beat  me  before  my  grandmother  gets  hold  of  me!' 
And  then  I  beat  him  in  fun,  and  the  little  rascal 
pretends  to  cry.  Then  I  look  after  him.  I  cannot 
always  keep  him  from  being  in  rags,  poor  child ; 
but  whenever  I  have  any  kind  of  a  garment,  I  make 
it  over  for  him,  and  I  cure  him  when  he  is  ill, 
whereas  my  grandmother  would  kill  him,  for  she 
does  not  know  how  to  take  care  of  children ;   so  I 

152 


FADETTE 

preserve  this  poor  little  wretch's  life,  and  if  I  were 
not  here,  he  would  be  very  unhappy,  and  would 
soon  lie  in  the  ground  beside  my  poor  father, 
whom  I  could  not  keep  from  dying.  I  do  not 
know  whether  I  do  the  poor  boy  a  kindness  by 
keeping  him  alive,  crooked  as  he  is  in  body  and 
mind  ;  but  I  cannot  help  myself.  And  when  I 
think  of  going  out  to  service,  Landry,  so  as  to 
have  some  money  of  my  own,  and  to  escape  my 
present  poverty,  my  heart  is  ready  to  burst  with 
pity,  and  accuses  me  as  if  I  were  my  little  Grass- 
hopper's mother,  and  were  letting  him  die  by  some 
fault  of  mine.  Now,  I  have  told  you  all  my  faults 
and  failings,  Landry.  May  God  be  my  judge  !  As 
for  me,  I  forgive  all  those  who  misunderstand  me." 


153 


CHAPTER   XIX 


LANDRY  had  listened  to  little  Fadette  with  con- 
_j  flicting  emotions,  and  without  finding  any- 
thing to  contradict  in  the  reasons  she  gave.  At 
last  the  way  in  which  she  spoke  of  her  little  bro- 
ther, the  Grasshopper,  greatly  affected  him,  and  he 
suddenly  felt  such  a  liking  for  her  that  he  would 
have  defended  her  against  all  the  world. 

"  This  time,  Fadette,  whoever  finds  fault  with  you 
deserves  to  be  blamed  first  himself;  for  everything 
you  have  said  is  very  just,  and  nobody  suspects  you 
of  having  such  a  good  heart  and  sound  judgment. 
Why  do  you  not  show  yourself  for  what  you  are? 
Then  nobody  would  speak  ill  of  you,  and  some 
people  would  do  you  justice." 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  Landry,  that  I  do  not 
care  to  please  thos£_^vho-do  not  please  me." 

"  If  you  tell  this  to  me,  you  must  mean — " 

There  Landry  stopped,  surprised  at  what  he  was 
on  the  point  of  saying  ;  and  then  he  resumed : 
IS4 


FADETTE 

"So  you  must  feel  more  good-will  toward  me 
than  toward  others?  I  always  thought  you  hated 
me  because  I  never  was  kind  to  you." 

11  Perhaps  I  did  hate  you  a  little,"  answered 
Fadette ;  "  but  if  I  did,  I  shall  never  hate  you 
again  after  to-day,  and  I  am  going  to  tell  you  why, 
Landry.  I  thought  you  were  proud,  and  so  you 
are ;  but  you  are  able  to  overcome  your  pride  for 
the  sake  of  your  duty,  and  deserve  the  greater 
praise.  I  thought  you  were  ungrateful,  and  though 
the  pride  which  you  have  been  taught  inclines  you 
toward  ingratitude,  you  are  so  true  to  your  word 
that  you  keep  it  at  all  cost;  then,  too,  I  thought 
you  a  coward,  and  almost  despised  you  for  it ;  but 
I  see  you  are  only  superstitious,  and  that  you  are 
never  wanting  in  courage  when  you  have  a  real 
danger  to  face.  You  danced  with  me  to-day, 
though  it  was  humiliating  to  you.  You  even  came 
after  vespers  to  look  for  me  in  the  church,  just  as 
I  had  said  my  prayers,  and  had  forgiven  you  in 
my  heart  and  determined  not  to  torment  you  any 
more.  You  protected  me  against  those  naughty 
children,  and  challenged  the  big  boys  who  would 
have  maltreated  me  if  it  had  not  been  for  you ; 
and  this  evening,  when  you  heard  me  crying,  you 

'55 


FADETTE 

came  to  help  and  comfort  me.  Do  not  think, 
Landry,  that  I  shall  ever  forget  these  things.  You 
may  be  sure  all  your  life  that  I  shall  remember 
them ;  and  in  your  turn,  you  may  ask  of  me  what- 
ever you  want  at  any  time.  Now,  to  begin  with, 
I  know  that  I  have  caused  you  serious  trouble  to- 
day. Yes,  I  know  it,  Landry,  and  I  am  witch 
enough  to  guess  something  about  you  of  which  I 
was  quite  ignorant  this  morning.  You  may  be  cer- 
tain than  I  am  more  mischievous  than  unkind,  and 
that  if  I  had  known  that  you  were  in  love  with 
Madelon,  1  should  not  have  stirred  up  strife  between 
you,  as  I  did  by  forcing  you  to  dance  with  me.  It 
amused  me,  I  confess,  to  see  you  neglect  a  pretty 
girl  in  order  to  dance  with  an  ugly  one  like  me, 
but  I  thought  it  was  only  a  smart  to  your  vanity. 
As  I  gradually  understood  that  your  heart  was 
really  wounded,  and  that  in  spite  of  yourself  you 
watched  Madelon,  and  were  ready  to  cry  when  you 
saw  how  angry  she  was,  I  cried  myself.  Honestly, 
1  cried  just  as  you  were  going  to  fight  with  her  ad- 
mirers, and  you  thought  I  was  shedding  tears  of 
repentance.  That  is  the  reason  I  was  still  crying 
so  bitterly  when  you  came  upon  me  here  by  ac- 
cident, and  I  shall  cry  over  it  until  I  can  repair  the 

i56 


FADETTE 

harm  I  have  done  to  such  a  good  fellow  as  I  know 
you  to  be." 

"  Suppose,  poor  Fanchon,"  said  Landry,  much 
moved  by  the  tears  she  was  beginning  to  shed 
afresh, — "suppose  you  have  caused  some  trouble 
between  me  and  a  girl  with  whom  you  think  I  am 
in  love,  what  could  you  do  to  set  it  right?" 

11  Trust  me,  Landry,"  answered  little  Fadette. 
"I  am  clever  enough  to  make  a  satisfactory  ex- 
planation. Madelon  shall  know  that  I  am  to  blame 
for  everything.  If  she  does  not  take  you  back  into 
her  favor  to-morrow,  it  will  be  because  she  has  never 
loved  you,  and  —  " 

"  And  then  I  ought  not  to  regret  her,  Fanchon  ; 
and  as  she  has  never  loved  me,  you  would  really 
be  taking  pains  for  nothing.  Leave  it  alone,  and 
forget  the  little  vexation  you  caused  me;  I  am  al- 
ready cured  of  it." 

"Such  wounds  are  not  so  easily  healed,"  an- 
swered little  Fadette  ;  then,  recollecting  herself,  she 
went  on  :  "  At  least  they  say  so.  You  are  talking 
so  out  of  pique,  Landry.  When  you  have  slept 
on  it,  and  to-morrow  comes,  you  will  be  very 
sad  until  you  have  made  your  peace  with  pretty 
Madelon." 

157 


FADETTE 

"Perhaps,"  said  Landry  ;  "but  now  I  stake  my 
word  upon  it  that  I  do  not  understand  what  you 
mean,  and  think  no  more  about  it.  I  fancy  it  is 
you  who  want  to  make  me  believe  that  I  am  in 
love  with  her  ;  but  if  I  did  care  for  her,  it  was  so 
little  that  I  have  almost  forgotten  it." 

"  That  is  strange,"  said  little  Fadette,  with  a 
sigh.     "  Is  that  the  way  you  boys  love?" 

"  You  girls  do  not  love  a  whit  better,  since  you 
are  so  easily  offended,  and  console  yourselves  so 
quickly  with  the  first  man  who  comes  along.  But 
we  are  speaking  of  things  which  perhaps  we  do 
not  as  yet  understand, — at  least  I  do  not  think  you 
do,  little  Fadette, — you,  who  are  always  laughing  at 
lovers.  I  think  that  you  are  making  fun  of  me  by 
trying  to  patch  up  my  quarrel  with  Madelon.  Do 
nothing  about  it,  I  tell  you;  for  she  might  think 
that  I  sent  you,  and  then  she  would  make  a  mis- 
take. And  she  might  be  angry  if  she  thought  I 
were  presenting  myself  in  the  light  of  her  declared 
lover ;  for  the  truth  is  that  I  never  said  a  word  of 
love  to  her,  and  if  I  took  pleasure  in  her  society 
and  in  dancing  with  her,  she  never  inspired  me 
with  the  courage  to  tell  it  to  her.  So  let  us  leave 
it  alone.  She  will  get  over  it  herself,  if  she  wishes ; 
.58 


FADETTE 

and  if  she  does  not  get  over  it,  I  do  not  think  it 
will  kill  me." 

"  I  know  what  you  think,  better  than  you  do 
yourself,  Landry/'  answered  little  Fadette.  "  I  be- 
lieve you  when  you  say  that  you  have  never  told 
Madelon  of  your  love  in  words,  but  she  would  be 
very  stupid  if  she  had  not  read  it  in  your  eyes, — 
above  all,  to-day.  Since  I  was  the  cause  of  your 
quarrel,  I  must  also  be  the  cause  of  your  reconcili- 
ation, and  it  will  be  a  good  opportunity  to  let 
Madelon  know  that  you  love  her.  It  will  be  my 
part  to  tell  her,  and  I  shall  do  it  so  delicately  and 
with  so  much  tact  that  she  cannot  accuse  you  of 
having  instigated  me.  Yes,  Landry,  you  may  trust 
little  Fadette,  the  poor  Cricket,  whose  heart  is  not 
so  ugly  as  her  face ;  and  forgive  her  for  having 
tormented  you,  for  you  will  reap  a  great  reward 
in  the  end.  You  will  know  that  if  it  is  sweet  to 
have  the  love  of  a  pretty  girl,  it  is  useful  to  have 
the  friendship  of  an  ugly  one  ;  for  ugly  girls  are 
disinterested,  and  never  feel  spite  or  malice." 

"  Whether  you  are  pretty  or  ugly,  Fanchon,"  said 

Landry,  taking  her  hand,  "  I  think  that  I  already 

understand    that   your  friendship  is  a   very  good 

thing  —  so  good  that  love  is  perhaps  poor  in  com- 

*59 


FADETTE 

parison.  I  know  that  you  are  very  good-natured; 
for  I  have  been  very  rude  to  you  to-day,  and  you 
have  paid  no  attention  to  it ;  and  though  you  say 
I  have  behaved  well  toward  you,  I  myself  know 
that  my  conduct  has  been  very  wrong." 

"  How  can  that  be,  Landry  ?  I  do  not  know 
what  you  mean." 

"  Because  I  did  not  kiss  you  once  in  the  dance, 
Fanchon,  though  it  was  both  my  duty  and  my  priv- 
ilege, since  it  is  the  custom.  I  treated  you  as  young 
men  treat  little  girls  ten  years  old,  whom  they  will 
not  condescend  to  kiss,  and  yet  you  are  almost  my 
age.  So  I  really  insulted  you,  and  if  you  were  not 
a  kind  girl,  you  would  have  noticed  it." 

"  1  never  even  thought  of  it,"  said  little  Fadette; 
and  she  rose  quickly,  for  she  felt  that  she  was  lying, 
and  she  did  not  wish  him  to  know  it.  "Come," 
said  she,  making  an  effort  to  appear  gay,  "  listen 
to  the  crickets  chirping  in  the  stubble  ;  they  are 
calling  me  by  my  name,  and  there  is  an  owl  over 
there  hooting  the  hour  which  the  stars  mark  on 
heaven's  dial." 

"  1  hear  it  too,  and  I  must  go  home  to  the  Priche ; 
but  before  I  say  good-night,  will  you  not  tell  me 
that  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

1 60 


FADETTE 

"  But  I  bear  you  no  grudge,  Landry,  and  I  have 
nothing  to  forgive." 

"  Yes,"  said  Landry,  who  was  moved  by  an  in- 
definable emotion  as  she  spoke  to  him  of  love  and 
friendship  in  a  voice  so  sweet  that  that  of  the  bull- 
finches drowsily  twittering  in  the  bushes  seemed 
harsh  in  comparison, — "  yes,  you  have  something 
to  forgive,  and  you  must  let  me  kiss  you  now  to 
make  amends  for  not  having  done  it  to-day." 

Fadette  trembled  a  little  ;  then,  immediately  re- 
gaining her  equanimity: 

"  You  want  me  to  make  you  do  penance  for 
your  fault.  Well,  I  let  you  off,  my  boy.  It  was 
quite  enough  to  dance  with  an  ugly  girl ;  it  would 
be  too  much  virtue  to  insist  upon  kissing  her." 

"  Do  not  say  that,"  exclaimed  Landry,  catching 
her  by  the  hand  and  arm  at  the  same  time.  "I 
do  not  think  it  can  be  a  penance  to  kiss  you  —  un- 
less you  feel  distaste  and  scorn  for  it,  coming  as  it 
does  from  me." 

As  soon  as  he  had  spoken,  he  was  conscious  of 
such  a  desire  to  kiss  little  Fadette  that  he  trembled 
with  fear  lest  she  should  not  consent. 

"  Listen.  Landry,"  she  said  in  her  sweet,  caressing 
voice;  "if  I  were  pretty,  I  should  tell  you  that  it  is 
11  161 


FADETTE 

neither  the  place  nor  the  hour  for  kissing,  as  if  in 
secret.  If  I  were  a  flirt,  I  should  think,  on  the 
contrary,  that  this  is  both  the  place  and  the  hour; 
because  the  night  hides  my  ugliness,  and  there  is 
nobody  here  to  make  you  ashamed  of  your  vagary. 
But  I  am  neither  pretty  nor  a  flirt,  and  this  is  what 
I  say  :  '  Shake  hands  with  me  in  token  of  our 
honest  friendship,  and  I  shall  be  happy, —  I,  who 
have  never  known  what  friendship  is,  and  who 
shall  never  ask  it  of  another.'" 

"Yes,"  said  Landry,  "  I  shake  hands  with  you 
with  all  my  heart — do  you  hear,  Fadette  ?  But  the 
most  honest  friendship,  such  as  mine  for  you,  need 
not  stand  in  the  way  of  our  kissing.  If  you  deny 
me  this  test,  I  shall  believe  that  you  still  have 
some  grudge  against  me." 

Then  he  tried  to  kiss  her  unawares  ;  but  she  drew 
back,  and  as  he  persisted,  she  began  to  cry,  saying: 

"Go  away,  Landry  ;  you  give  me  great  pain." 

Landry  stopped  in  astonishment,  and  was  so 
vexed  to  see  her  in  tears,  that  he  was  almost  angry. 

"  I  see,"  said  he  ;  "  you  are  not  telling  me  the 
truth  when  you  say  my  friendship  is  the  only  one 
you  wish  for.  You  have  another,  and  a  stronger, 
which  forbids  your  kissing  me." 

162 


FADETTE 

"No,  Landry,"  she  answered,  sobbing;  "  but  I 
am  afraid  that  if  you  kiss  me  at  night  without  see- 
ing me,  you  will  hate  me  when  you  see  me  again 
by  daylight." 

"Have  I  never  seen  you?"  cried  Landry  impa- 
tiently, "and  cannot  I  see  you  now?  Come  a  lit- 
tle this  way  into  the  moonlight.  Now  I  can  see 
you  distinctly,  and  I  do  not  know  whether  you  are 
ugly  or  not;  but  I  love  your  face  because  I  love  you, 
and  that  is  all  I  can  say." 

Then  he  kissed  her,  trembling  at  first,  but  after- 
ward he  kept  on  so  eagerly  that  she  was  frightened, 
and  pushed  him  away,  saying  : 

"That  is  enough,  Landry!  I  begin  to  think 
that  you  are  kissing  me  in  anger,  or  that  you  are 
thinking  of  Madelon.  Be  calm ;  I  shall  speak  to 
her  to-morrow,  and  you  will  find  more  enjoyment 
in  kissing  her  than  any  I  can  give  you." 

Thereupon  she  scrambled  quickly  up  the  bank, 
and  went  off  with  a  light  step. 

Landry  was  infatuated,  and  longed  to  run  after 
her.  He  started  three  times  in  pursuit,  before  de- 
ciding to  go  down  toward  the  river.  Finally, 
thinking  that  the  devil  was  after  him,  he  began 
to  run,  and  never  stopped  till  he  reached  the  Priche. 
163 


FADETTE 

The  next  day,  he  went  to  look  after  his  oxen  at 
the  early  dawn,  and  as  he  was  feeding  them  and 
stroking  them,  his  thoughts  recurred  to  the  con- 
versation he  had  had  with  little  Fadette  in  the 
Chaumois  road,  and  which,  though  it  had  lasted  a 
whole  hour,  had  seemed  to  him  but  a  moment. 
His  head  was  heavy  with  sleep,  and  his  mind  was 
wearied  by  the  fatigue  of  a  day  which  had  turned 
out  so  contrary  to  his  expectation.  He  was  troubled 
and  frightened  by  what  he  had  felt  for  this  girl, 
who  came  back  to  his  mind,  ugly  and  ill-dressed 
as  he  had  always  known  her.  Now  and  then  he 
thought  that  he  must  have  dreamed  his  desire  to 
kiss  her,  especially  when  he  recalled  his  happiness 
in  pressing  her  to  his  heart,  and  the  great  affec- 
tion he  had  felt  for  her,  just  as  if  she  had  suddenly 
become  the  prettiest  and  dearest  girl  in  the  world. 

li  She  must  be  a  sorceress,  as  they  say  she  is,  al- 
though she  denies  it,"  thought  he ;  "  for  surely  she 
bewitched  me  last  evening,  and  I  never  in  my  life 
felt  such  intense  love  for  father,  mother,  sister,  or 
brother,  certainly  not  for  the  pretty  Madelon,  and 
not  even  for  my  dear  twin  Sylvinet,  as  I  did  during 
two  or  three  minutes  for  that  little  fiend  of  a  girl. 
If  poor  Sylvinet  had  been  able  to  look  into  my 
164 


FADETTE 

heart,  he  would  have  died  of  jealousy  on  the  spot- 
My  attachment  to  Madelon  did  not  interfere  with 
my  love  for  my  brother,  whereas,  if  I  should  be 
infatuated  and  excited  for  one  whole  day  as  1  was 
for  one  moment  by  Fadette's  side,  I  should  lose  my 
senses,  and  think  there  was  no  other  person  in  the 
world." 

Landry  felt  bursting  with  shame,  fatigue  and 
impatience.  He  sat  down  on  the  manger  of  his 
oxen,  and  trembled  lest  the  little  witch  had  robbed 
him  of  his  courage,  his  senses,  and  his  health. 

As  the  day  grew  lighter  the  laborers  of  the  Priche 
came  to  their  work,  and  began  to  tease  him  for 
dancing  with  the  ugly  Cricket;  and  in  their  banter 
they  made  her  out  so  hideous,  so  ill-mannered, 
and  so  badly  dressed  that  he  did  not  know  where 
to  hide  his  shame  both  for  what  had  been  seen 
and  for  what  he  was  careful  to  keep  to  himself. 

He  did  not  lose  his  temper,  however,  for  the  men 
of  the  Priche  were  all  good  friends  of  his,  and  teased 
him  without  any  malicious  intention.  He  even 
had  the  courage  to  tell  them  that  they  did  not 
know  little  Fadette  ;  that  she  was  worth  more  than 
many  other  girls  ;  and  that  she  was  capable  of  great 
kindness.  Then  they  redoubled  their  raillery. 
"*  165 


FADETTE 

"\  don't  speak  of  her  mother,"  said  one;  "but 
she  herself  is  a  most  stupid  child,  and  if  one  of 
your  animals  is  sick,  I  advise  you  not  to  follow  her 
remedies ;  for  she  is  a  little  chatterbox,  and  has  no 
secret  art  of  healing.  But  apparently  she  knows 
Viow  to  bewitch  boys,  for  you  never  left  her  all  the 
4ay  of  St.  Andoche  ;  and  you  had  better  take  care, 
poor  Landry,  for  you  will  soon  be  called  the 
Cricket's  cricket,  and  the  sprite's  sprite.  The  devil 
will  be  after  you.  The  hobgoblin  will  come  to 
twitch  the  sheets  off  our  beds,  and  tangle  our 
horse's  manes.  We  shall  be  obliged  to  have  you 
exorcised." 

"  I  think,"  said  little  Solange,  "  that  he  must 
have  put  on  one  of  his  stockings  wrong  side  out  yes- 
terday morning.  That  attracts  witches,  and  little 
Fadette  observed  it." 


1 66 


CHAPTER    XX 


URING  the  day,  as  Landry  was  busy  at  his 
work,  he  saw  little  Fadette  passing  by.  She 
was  walking  quickly  toward  a  coppice  where 
Madelon  was  cutting  leaves  for  her  sheep.  It  was 
the  hour  for  unyoking  the  oxen,  when  half  their 
day's  work  was  done,  and  as  Landry  was  leading 
them  to  pasture,  he  kept  watching  little  Fadette, 
who  ran  with  such  a  light  foot  that  she  scarcely 
seemed  to  touch  the  grass.  He  was  curious  to 
know  what  she  was  going  to  say  to  Madelon,  and 
instead  of  hastening  to  eat  his  soup,  which  was 
waiting  for  him  in  the  furrow  still  hot  from  the 
plowshare,  he  crept  noiselessly  along  the  edge  of 
the  grove  to  listen  to  what  was  going  on  between 
the  young  girls.  He  could  not  see  them,  and  as 
Madelon  muttered  her  answers,  he  could  not  tell 
what  she  was  saying ;  but  little  Fadette's  voice,  if 
low,  was  none  the  less  clear,  and  though  she  did 
167 


FADETTE 

not  raise  it  in  the  least,  he  did  not  lose  a  single 
syllable.  She  was  speaking  of  him  to  Madelon, 
and  telling  her,  as  she  had  promised  Landry,  how, 
ten  months  before,  she  had  forced  him  to  give  his 
word  to  be  at  her  disposal  whenever  she  should 
require  it.  She  explained  everything  so  humbly 
and  sweetly  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  hear  her. 
Then,  without  mentioning  the  will-o'-the-wisp  or 
Landry's  fear  of  it,  she  told  how  he  had  come  near 
drowning  by  attempting  the  ford  of  the  Roulettes 
in  the  wrong  place  on  the  eve  of  St.Andoche.  In 
short,  she  put  everything  in  the  most  favorable 
light,  and  insisted  that  all  the  harm  had  sprung 
from  her  vanity,  and  her  desire  to  dance  with  a  big 
boy  instead  of  the  little  ones  who  had  always  been 
her  partners. 

Then  Madelon,  in  a  rage,  raised  her  voice  and 
said : 

"What  do  I  care  for  all  that?  You  may  dance 
all  your  life  with  the  twins  of  the  Twinnery  ;  but 
you  must  not  think,  Cricket,  that  you  offend  me  or 
make  me  jealous  in  the  least  degree." 

Fadette  went  on  : 

"  Do  not  speak  so  cruelly  of  poor  Landry, 
Madelon  ;    for  Landry  has  given  you  his  heart,  and 

1 68 


FADETTE 

if  you  will  not  accept  it,  he  "'ill  be  sorrier  than  I 
can  say." 

She  spoke  so  prettily,  and  with  so  caressing  a 
tone,  and  with  such  praise  of  Landry,  that  he 
longed  for  her  powers  of  speech  to  use  when  it 
should  serve  his  turn,  and  he  blushed  with  plea- 
sure at  hearing  himself  so  commended. 

Madelon  was  amazed,  too,  at  little  Fadette's  elo- 
quence; but  she  scorned  her  too  much  to  let  her 
admiration  appear. 

"You  have  a  clever  tongue,  and  great  boldness," 
said  she.  "I  might  think  your  grandmother  had 
been  teaching  you  how  to  wheedle ;  but  I  do  not 
like  to  talk  to  witches ;  it  is  unlucky,  so  please  go 
away,  foolish  Cricket.  You  have  found  a  beau  — 
keep  him,  my  darling  ;  for  he  is  the  first  and  last 
one  who  will  ever  care  for  your  ugly  face.  As  for 
me,  I  would  not  play  second  fiddle  to  you, — no,  not 
even  for  a  king's  son.  Your  Landry  is  a  fool,  and 
he  must  be  absolutely  worthless,  since,  when  you 
think  you  have  stolen  him  from  me,  you  come  to 
beg  me  to  take  him  back  again.  A  young  man 
whom  even  little  Fadette  disdains  would  make  a 
fine  beau  for  me  !  " 

"  If  that  is  what  wounds  you,"  answered  Fadette 
169 


FADETTE 

in  a  tone  which  pierced  to  the  very  bottom  of 
Landry's  heart,  "  and  if  you  are  so  haughty  that 
you  will  not  consent  to  do  justice  to  him  until  you 
have  humiliated  me,  put  yourself  at  ease,  beautiful 
Madelon,  and  trample  under  your  feet  the  pride  and 
spirit  of  the  poor  little  Cricket  of  the  fields.  You 
think  that  I  disdain  Landry,  or  that  otherwise  I 
should  not  beg  you  to  forgive  him.  Very  well,  I  will 
tell  you,  if  you  wish  to  know,  that  I  have  long  loved 
him  ;  that  he  is  the  only  boy  I  have  ever  thought 
of,  and  that  perhaps  I  shall  think  of  him  all  my 
life  ;  but  I  have  too  much  good  sense,  and  also  too 
much  pride,  to  imagine  that  1  can  ever  make  him 
fall  in  love  with  me.  I  know  what  he  is,  and  I 
know  what  I  am.  He  is  handsome,  rich,  and  held 
in  high  esteem  ;  I  am  ugly,  poor,  and  despised. 
So  I  know  that  he  is  not  for  me,  and  you  must  have 
seen  how  he  scorned  me  at  the  festival.  So  you 
may  be  indeed  content ;  for  the  man  to  whom  little 
Fadette  dares  not  so  much  as  lift  up  her  eyes  is  full 
of  love  for  you.  Punish  little  Fadette  by  laughing 
at  her,  and  by  carrying  off  the  friend  whom  she 
would  not  dare  take  from  you.  If  it  may  not  be 
for  love  of  him,  let  it  be  at  least  as  a  punishment 
for  my  insolence,  and  promise  me  when  he  comes 
170 


FADETTE 

to  make  his  peace  with  you,  to  comfort  him  and  to 
receive  him  kindly." 

Instead  of  being  moved  by  so  much  humility  and 
self-devotion,  Madelon  showed  great  harshness,  and 
as  she  sent  little  Fadette  away,  she  told  her  repeat- 
edly to  keep  possession  of  Landry  ;  as  for  her,  she 
considered  him  a  mere  child  and  a  fool.  But  little 
Fadette's  great  sacrifice  bore  its  fruit  in  spite  of 
pretty  Madelon's  rebuffs.  Women's  hearts  are  so 
made  that  a  young  lad  seems  a  man  to  them  as 
soon  as  they  see  him  petted  and  made  much  of  by 
other  women.  Madelon,  who  had  never  thought 
very  seriously  of  Landry,  began  to  think  of  him  in 
earnest  as  soon  as  Fadette  left  her.  She  remem- 
bered all  the  eloquent  little  talker  had  said  of  Lan- 
dry's affection,  and  when  she  reflected  that  Fadette 
had  gone  so  far  as  to  acknowledge  herself  in  love 
with  him,  she  reveled  in  the  idea  of  taking  her 
revenge  on  the  poor  girl. 

She  went  that  evening  to  the  Priche,  which  was 
distant  only  two  or  three  gunshots  from  her  own 
house,  and  under  pretext  of  looking  up  one  of  her 
cattle  which  had  strayed  off  among  her  uncle's  herds, 
she  let  Landry  catch  sight  of  her,  and  with  a  glance 
encouraged  him  to  come  up  and  speak  to  her. 
171 


V 


FADETTE 

Landry  understood  very  well,  for  his  wits  were 
singularly  sharpened  since  his  adventure  with  little 
Fadette.  "  Fadette  is  a  witch,"  thought  he  ;  "  she 
has  restored  me  to  Madelon's  good  graces,  and  has 
done  more  for  me  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  con- 
versation than  I  could  do  for  myself  in  a  year.  She 
is  wonderfully  clever,  and  few  girls  have  so  kind  a 
heart  as  she." 

As  he  thought  of  this,  he  looked  toward  Madelon, 
but  his  gaze  was  so  tranquil  that  she  withdrew  be- 
fore he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  speak  to  her.  He 
was  not  exactly  bashful  in  her  presence  ;  his  shy- 
ness had  fled,  he  knew  not  how  ;  but  with  his  shy- 
ness, his  delight  in  her  society,  and  the  desire  he 
had  once  felt  to  please  her,  were  gone  also. 

As  soon  as  he  had  finished  supper,  he  pretended 
to  go  to  sleep.  But  he  got  out  of  bed  on  the  side 
next  the  wall,  crept  noiselessly  along,  and  set  ofY 
straight  toward  the  ford  of  the  Roulettes.  The 
will-o'-the-wisp  was  carrying  on  its  little  dance 
there  again  that  evening.  As  soon  as  Landry  saw 
it  skipping  about,  he  thought  to  himself: 

"  So  much  the  better;  the  sprite  is  here,  and  the 
sprite's  mistress  cannot  be  far  off." 

He  crossed  the  ford  fearlessly,  and  without  mak- 
172 


FADETTE 

ing  any  mistake,  and  kept  on  as  far  as  Mother 
Fadet's  house,  looking  anxiously  on  every  side.  He 
waited  a  few  minutes  without  seeing  a  light  or 
hearing  a  sound.  Everybody  had  gone  to  bed.  He 
hoped  that  the  Cricket,  who  was  in  the  habit  of 
taking  nocturnal  rambles  after  her  grandmother 
and  the  Grasshopper  had  gone  to  sleep,  might  be 
wandering  about  in  the  neighborhood  ;  and  so  he 
set  off  in  the  direction  he  thought  she  might  have 
taken.  He  crossed  the  rush-field,  and  went  as  far 
as  the  Chaumois  road,  whistling  and  singing  aloud 
to  attract  attention ;  but  he  met  only  a  badger 
trotting  through  the  stubble,  and  an  owl  hooting 
in  a  tree-top.  He  was  obliged  to  go  home  without 
finding  an  opportunity  to  thank  the  good  friend 
who   had  served  him   so   well. 


f7* 


CHAPTER    XXI 


THE  whole  week  passed  without  Landry's 
meeting  Fadette,  and  he  grew  surprised 
and  anxious. 

"  She  will  think  me  ungrateful,"  thought  he; 
"  but  though  I  have  not  seen  her,  it  is  not  because 
I  have  not  searched  and  watched  for  her.  I  must 
have  hurt  her  feelings  by  kissing  her  the  other 
evening,  but  I  meant  no  harm,  and  had  no  idea 
of  offending  her." 

He  did  more  thinking  this  week  than  ever  before 
in  his  life  ;  his  mind  was  not  clear,  but  he  was 
thoughtful  and  excited,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
make  an  effort  to  work  ;  for  the  great  oxen,  the 
shining  plowshare,  and  the  rich  red  earth,  moist 
with  the  fine  autumnal  rains,  no  longer  sufficed 
for   his  dreams  and   meditations. 

He  went  to  see  his  twin  on  Thursday  evening, 
and  found  him  as  troubled  as  himself.  Sylvinet's 
?74 


FADETTE 

character  was  different  from  his,  but  sometimes 
alike  by  sympathy.  He  seemed  to  have  guessed 
that  something  was  disturbing  his  brother's  mind, 
though  he  was  really  far  from  suspecting  the  truth. 
He  asked  him  if  he  had  made  peace  with  Madelon, 
and  Landry  told  him  voluntarily  a  falsehood  for  the 
first  time  by  pretending  that  he  had.  In  reality, 
Landry  had  not  said  a  word  to  Madelon,  and  thought 
he  had  plenty  of  time  for  it ;  he  was  in  no  haste. 

Finally,  Sunday  came  round,  and  Landry  was 
among  the  first  at  mass.  He  entered  before  the  bell 
had  rung,  for  he  knew  that  it  was  little  Fadette's  habit 
to  arrive  at  that  moment  to  make  the  long  prayers 
at  which  everybody  laughed.  He  saw  a  little  figure 
kneeling  in  the  chapel  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  the 
back  turned,  and  the  face  buried  in  the  hands,  as  if 
for  greater  devotion.  It  was  Fadette's  attitude,  but 
it  was  neither  her  cap  nor  her  dress,  and  Landry 
went  out  again  to  see  if  he  could  find  her  in  the 
porch,  which  we  call  the  place  of  rags  and  tatters, 
because  of  the  ragged  beggars  who  stay  there  dur- 
ing the  service. 

Fadette's  rags  were  the  only  ones  he  could  not 
find ;  he  listened  to  the  mass  without  seeing  her, 
and  it  was  only  at  the  preface  that,  as  he  watched 
175 


FADETTE 

the  girl  who  was  praying  so  devoutly  in  the  chapel, 
he  saw  her  raise  her  head,  and  then  recognized  his 
Cricket,  though  her  dress  and  air  were  entirely  new 
to  him.  They  were  the  same  old  clothes,  the  same 
coarse  woolen  petticoat,  the  red  apron,  and  the 
linen  cap  untrimmed  with  lace  ;  but  she  had 
cleaned,  recut,  and  made  over  everything  during 
the  week.  Her  dress  was  let  down  to  a  more  suit- 
able length  over  her  stockings,  that  were  very 
white,  as  well  as  her  cap,  which  had  taken  a 
modern  shape,  and  sat  gracefully  on  her  well-combed 
black  hair ;  her  neckerchief  was  new,  and  of  a 
pretty  soft  yellow  color  which  set  off  her  dark  skin. 
She  had  lengthened  her  bodice,  and  instead  of  look- 
ing like  a  wooden  doll  dressed  up,  her  waist  was 
perfectly  slender  and  pliant.  Moreover,  though  I 
do  not  know  with  what  juices  of  flowers  and  herbs 
she  had  washed  her  face  and  hands  for  the  past 
week,  her  pale  face  and  pretty  little  hands  looked  as 
fresh  and  soft  as  the  spring  hawthorn. 

Landry,  seeing  her  so  altered,  let  fall  his  prayer- 
book,  and,  at  the  noise  he  made,  little  Fadette 
turned  quite  round,  and  met  his  gaze  just  as  he 
was  looking  at  her.  She  blushed  a  little,  scarcely 
pinker  than  the  wild  rose  in  the  hedges ;  but  it 
176 


FADETTE 

made  her  almost  beautiful,  especially  as  her  black 
eyes,  which  nobody  had  ever  been  able  to  criticize, 
shot  out  such  a  brilliant  flame  that  she  seemed 
transfigured.     Landry  thought  again  : 

"  She  is  a  witch;  she  was  ugly,  and  wished  to 
make  herself  pretty,  and  now  she  is  beautiful  by  a 
miracle." 

He  was  transfixed  with  fear,  but  his  fear  did  not 
prevent  his  feeling  such  a  longing  to  go  and  speak 
with  her  that  his  heart  bounded  with  impatience 
until  the  end  of  the  mass. 

But  she  did  not  look  at  him  again,  and  instead 
of  racing  and  playing  with  the  children  after  her 
prayers,  she  went  off  so  discreetly  that  she  hardly 
gave  people  time  to  observe  how  much  changed  she 
was  for  the  better.  Landry  dared  not  follow  her,  par- 
ticularly as  Sylvinet  never  took  his  eyes  off  him  ;  but 
an  hour  later  he  succeeded  in  making  his  escape, 
and  this  time,  following  the  guidance  of  his  heart, 
he  found  little  Fadette  tending  her  flock  in  the 
sunken  road  which  is  called  the  Traine-an-Gendarme, 
because  a  gendarme  of  the  king  was  killed  there 
in  the  old  times,  as  he  was  trying  to  force  the  poor 
people  to  pay  the  tax  and  to  do  extra  duty,  contrary 
to  the  terms  of  the  law  already  harsh  enough. 
•77 


CHAPTER    XXII 


S  it  was  Sunday,  little  Fadette  was  neither 
sewing  nor  spinning  as  she  tended  the 
sheep.  She  was  amusing  herself  with  a  simple 
occupation  which  peasant  children  sometimes  take 
very  seriously.  She  was  looking  for  the  four- 
leaved  clover,  which  is  rarely  found,  and  brings 
good  luck  to  those  who  are  able  to  lay  hands  on  it. 

"Have  you  found  it,  Fanchon?"  said  Landry, 
as  soon  as  he  reached  her  side. 

"I  have  often  found  it,"  answered  she,  "but  it 
does  not  bring  good  luck,  as  it  is  said  to  do,  and 
three  sprigs  of  it  in  my  book  have  done  me  no 
good." 

Landry  sat  down  beside  her  as  if  he  wanted  to 
begin  a  conversation.  But  he  suddenly  became 
much  more  shy  than  he  had  ever  been  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Madelon,  and  though  he  had  much  to  say, 
he  could  not  find  a  word. 
178 


FADETTE 

Little  Fadette  was  shy,  too ;  for  if  he  did  not 
speak,  at  least  he  looked  at  her  with  a  strange  ex- 
pression. At  last  she  asked  him  why  he  seemed  to 
be  so  surprised  as  he  looked  at  her. 

"  It  may  be,"  she  said,  "because  I  have  changed 
my  way  of  dress.  In  that  I  followed  your  advice ; 
and  I  was  convinced  that  if  I  wanted  to  appear  like 
a  sensible  girl,  I  had  better  begin  to  dress  sensibly. 
So  I  do  not  dare  to  show  myself,  for  I  am  afraid  of 
having  still  more  fault  found  with  me,  and  of 
making  people  say  that  I  tried  to  make  myself  less 
ugly  without  success." 

"They  may  say  what  they  choose,"  said  Landry, 
"but  I  cannot  understand  what  you  have  done  to 
make  yourself  so  pretty;  it  is  the  truth  that  you 
are  lovely  to-day,  and  a  man  must  be  blind  not  to 
see  it." 

"Do  not  laugh  at  me,  Landry,"  answered  little 
Fadette.  "  They  say  beauty  turns  the  head  of 
pretty  girls,  and  that  ugliness  makes  ugly  girls 
despair.  I  am  used  to  being  a  scarecrow,  and  I 
don't  want  to  be  such  a  fool  as  to  think  I  give 
pleasure.  But  you  did  not  come  to  talk  about  this, 
and  I  am  waiting  for  you  to  tell  me  whether  Mad- 
elon  has  forgiven  you." 

•79 


FADETTE 

"1  have  not  come  to  speak  of  Madelon.  If  she 
has  forgiven  me,  I  know  nothing  of  it,  and  ask  no 
questions  about  it.  I  only  know  that  you  spoke 
to  her  of  me,  and  so  kindly  that  I  owe  you  many 
thanks." 

"How  do  you  know  that  I  spoke  to  her  of  you? 
Did  she  tell  you?  If  she  did,  you  must  have  made 
your  peace." 

"  We  have  made  no  peace ;  she  and  I  do  not  care 
enough  about  each  other  to  be  at  war.  I  know 
that  you  spoke  to  her,  because  she  told  somebody 
who  let  me  know." 

Little  Fadette  blushed  deeply,  which  gave  her  a 
new  charm  ;  for  never  till  that  day  had  she  worn 
on  her  cheeks  that  honest  glow  of  fear  and  pleasure 
which  makes  even  the  ugliest  girls  attractive;  but, 
at  the  same  time,  she  reflected  anxiously  that  Mad- 
elon must  have  repeated  her  words,  and  turned 
her  into  ridicule  on  account  of  the  love  she  had 
confessed  for  Landry. 

"And  what  did  Madelon  say  of  me?"  she  de- 
manded. 

"  She  said  that  I  was  a  great  fool,  and  that  no 
girl  liked  me,  not  even  little  Fadette  ;  that  little 
Fadette  despised  me,  ran  away  from  me,  and  hid 

1 80 


FADETTE 

the  whole  week  so  as  not  to  see  me,  although  the 
whole  week  through  I  went  everywhere  and  looked 
everywhere  to  find  little  Fadette.  So  it  is  1  who 
am  the  general  laughing-stock,  Fanchon  ;  because 
everybody  knows  that  1  love  you,  and  that  you  do 
not  love  me  !  " 

u  What  foolish  gossip  !  "  exclaimed  Fadette,  in 
astonishment ;  for  she  was  not  enough  of  a  witch 
to  divine  that  at  that  moment  Landry  was  slyer 
than  she.  "  I  did  not  think  that  Madelon  was  so 
false  and  treacherous.  But  you  must  forgive  her, 
Landry  ;  for  she  speaks  out  of  pique,  and  she  is 
piqued  because  she  loves  you." 

(l  Perhaps,"  said  Landry;  "  and  that  is  why  you 
are  not  piqued  with  me,  Fanchon.  You  forgive 
me  because  you  despise  me." 

"  I  have  not  deserved  that  from  you,  Landry; 
indeed,  I  really  have  not  deserved  it!  I  never  was 
so  foolish  as  to  tell  the  lies  ascribed  to  me.  I  spoke 
to  Madelon  of  something  quite  different.  What  I 
said  was  for  her  ear  alone,  but  it  could  not  injure 
you.  On  the  contrary,  it  should  have  proved  to 
her  how  much  I  thought  of  you." 

"Listen,  Fanchon,"  said  Landry;  "do  not  let 
us  dispute  over  what  you  said  or  what  you  did 
I2*  181 


FADETTE 

not  say.  You  are  wise,  and  I  want  to  consult  you. 
Last  Sunday,  in  the  Chaumois  road,  I  felt  for  you, 
without  knowing  why,  a  love  so  strong  that  this 
whole  week  I  have  neither  eaten  nor  slept  my  fill. 
1  shall  not  try  to  hide  anything  from  you,  for 
it  would  be  labor  lost  with  a  girl  as  clever  as 
you.  1  confess  that  on  Monday  morning  I  was 
very  much  ashamed  of  my  love,  and  wanted  to 
run  away  to  avoid  falling  again  into  the  same 
folly.  But  on  Monday  evening  I  had  already  fallen 
in  again  so  deeply  that  I  crossed  the  ford  at  night 
without  fear  of  the  sprite,  though  it  tried  to  pre- 
vent my  looking  for  you  ;  for  it  was  still  there, 
and  when  it  paid  me  its  mocking  greeting,  I  re- 
turned the  compliment.  Since  Monday,  every  morn- 
ing I  feel  like  a  fool,  because  they  all  tease  me 
about  my  liking  for  you  ;  and  every  evening  I  feel 
as  if  I  were  crazy,  for  I  know  that  my  liking  for 
you  is  stronger  than  my  false  shame.  And  now, 
to-day,  you  are  so  pretty  and  well-behaved  that 
everybody  else  will  be  amazed,  too ;  and  if  you  go 
on  in  this  way,  before  two  weeks  are  over,  I  shall 
not  only  be  excused  for  being  in  love  with  you, 
but  you  will  have  many  other  lovers  besides.  Then 
there  will  be  no  merit  in  my  loving  you,  and  you 
182 


FADETTE 

will  owe  me  no  preference.  However,  if  you  re- 
member last  Sunday  the  feast  of  St.  Andoche,  you 
will  also  remember  that  in  the  Chaumois  road  I 
asked  you  to  let  me  kiss  you,  and  that  I  did  it  as 
ardently  as  if  you  had  never  been  called  ugly  and 
disagreeable.  These  are  my  claims,  Fadette.  Tell 
me  whether  they  count  for  anything,  and  whether 
you  are  angry  or  disposed  to  relent." 

Little  Fadette  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  did 
not  answer  ;  Landry  thought  from  what  he  had 
overheard  of  her  conversation  with  Madelon,  that 
she  loved  him ;  and  I  must  acknowledge  that  her 
confession  of  love  had  immediately  awakened  his 
own.  But  when  he  saw  the  young  girl's  down- 
cast and  sorrowful  attitude,  he  began  to  fear  lest 
she  had  made  up  a  story  to  Madelon,  because  she 
had  so  much  at  heart  the  success  of  the  reconcilia- 
tion she  was  negotiating.  This  vexed  him,  and  he 
felt  all  the  more  in  love  with  her.  He  drew  away 
her  hands  from  her  face,  and  saw  she  was  pale  as 
death  ;  and  as  he  was  upbraiding  her  sharply  for 
making  no  response  to  his  mad  love  for  her,  she 
fell  back  on  the  ground,  her  hands  clasped,  and 
gasping  for  breath  ;  for  she  was  suffocating,  and 
dropped  out  of  weakness. 
183 


CHAPTER    XXIII 


IAN  DRY  was  much  frightened,  and  chafed  her 
_j  hands  to  bring  her  back  to  herself.  Her 
hands  were  cold  as  icicles  and  stiff  as  pieces  of 
wood,  and  he  warmed  and  rubbed  them  long  in 
his.  When  she  recovered  her  speech,  she  said  to 
him  : 

"  I  think  you  are  laughing  at  me,  Landry;  but 
there  are  things  about  which  it  is  wrong  to  jest. 
So  I  beg  you  to  leave  me  alone,  and  never  to  speak 
to  me  unless  you  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  me.  In 
that  case,  I  shall  always  be  at  your  service." 

11  Fadette  !  Fadette  !  "  cried  Landry — tl  what  you 
say  is  unkind  !  It  is  you  who  have  made  fun  of 
me.  You  hate  me,  and  yet  you  made  me  believe 
something  different." 

"I?"  said  she,  much  grieved.  "  What  have  I 
ever  made  you  believe  ?  I  offered  you,  and  gave 
you,  a  true  friendship,  such  as  your  twin's  for  you, 
184 


FADETTE 

and  perhaps  truer  than  his,  for  I  have  never  been 
jealous  ;  and  instead  of  hindering  you  in  your  love- 
affair,  I  tried  to  serve  you." 

"It  is  true,"  said  Landry;  "you  have  been 
kind  as  an  angel,  and  it  is  I  who  do  wrong  to 
reproach  you.  Forgive  me,  Fanchon,  and  let  me 
love  you  as  best  I  may.  It  may  not  be  such  a 
tranquil  affection  as  that  I  feel  for  my  twin  or  my 
sister  Nanette,  but  I  promise  not  to  try  to  kiss  you 
any  more,  if  you  object." 

The  tide  of  Landry's  thoughts  had  turned,  and 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  in  reality  little  Fa- 
dette  felt  only  a  very  calm  affection  for  him  ;  and 
because  he  was  neither  conceited  nor  vain,  he  be- 
came as  shy  and  timid  in  her  presence  as  if  he  had 
not  heard  with  his  own  ears  all  she  had  said  of 
him  to    pretty   Madelon. 

As  to  little  Fadette,  she  had  wit  enough  to  un- 
derstand at  last  that  Landry  was  heart  and  soul 
madly  in  love  with  her,  and  it  was  on  account  of 
the  too  great  pleasure  it  gave  her  that,  for  a 
moment,  she  had  nearly  fainted.  But  she  was 
afraid  of  losing  too  quickly  a  happiness  so  quickly 
won,  and  fearing  this,  she  was  anxious  to  give 
Landry  time  enough  to  long  for  her  affection. 
.85 


FADETTE 

He  stayed  with  her  till  nightfall,  for  though  he 
dared  no  longer  tell  her  of  his  love,  he  was  so 
attracted  by  her,  and  took  so  much  pleasure  in 
seeing  her  and  listening  to  her,  that  he  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  leave  her  for  a  moment.  He 
played  with  the  Grasshopper,  who  was  never  far 
from  his  sister,  and  soon  joined  them.  He  was 
good  to  him,  and  soon  perceived  that  the  poor 
little  fellow,  who  had  been  so  maltreated  by  every- 
body, was  neither  stupid  nor  malicious  when  he 
met  with  kindness;  at  the  end  of  an  hour,  he  was 
so  subdued  and  grateful  that  he  kissed  the  twin's 
hands  and  called  him  dear  Landry,  just  as  he  called 
his  sister  dear  Fanchon.  Landry  was  touched,  and 
pitied  him,  and  thought  that  he,  as  well  as  every- 
body else,  had  been  very  guilty  in  the  past  toward 
Mother  Fadet's  two  poor  children,  who  needed  a 
little  love  only  to  make  them  the  best  in  the  land. 

The  next  few  days  Landry  succeeded  in  seeing 
little  Fadette,  sometimes  in  the  evening,  when  he 
was  able  to  have  a  little  conversation  with  her,  and 
sometimes  in  the  daytime,  when  he  met  her  in 
the  fields  ;  and  though  she  never  stopped  long,  as 
she  neither  could  nor  would  fail  in  her  duty,  he 
was  happy  to  say  a  few  earnest  words  to  her,  and 
186 


FADETTE 

to  look  at  her  with  adoring  eyes.  She  kept  on 
being  nice  in  her  speech  and  well-behaved  in  her 
manners  toward  everybody  ;  so  other  people  soon 
discovered  the  change,  and  altered  their  own  tone 
and  manners  toward  her.  As  she  no  longer  did 
anything  unfitting,  no  one  insulted  her ;  and  when 
she  found  she  was  no  longer  insulted,  she  felt  no 
more  temptation  to  provoke  people  or  call  them 
names. 

fj5ut  as  public  opinion  does  not  change  so  quickly 
as  our  resolutions7|it  was  destined  that  much  time 
should  elapse  before  the  general  scorn  and  aversion 
she  inspired  should  give  place  to  esteem  and  good- 
will. You  will  hear  later  how  this  came  about; 
at  present,  you  can  easily  imagine  that  nobody 
paid  much  attention  to  little  Fadette's  reformation. 
Four  or  five  of  those  good  old  men  and  women  who 
look  indulgently  on  the  young  lives  growing  up 
around  them,  and  are  considered  in  return  as  the 
fathers  and  mothers  of  the  neighborhood,  some- 
times talked  under  the  walnut-trees  of  Cosse,  and 
watched  the  swarm  of  young  people  and  children 
dancing  and  throwing  quoits.  These  old  people 
said : 

"That  boy  will  make  a  fine  soldier,  if  he  con- 
187 


FADETTE 

tinues  as  he  is  now,  for  he  is  too  well  made  to  be 
exempted  from  duty ;  this  fellow  will  be  as  clever 
and  knowing  as  his  father ;  that  other  will  be  as 
wise  and  calm  as  his  mother  ;  young  Lucette  over 
there  will  certainly  be  a  good  farm-servant;  big 
Louise  will  be  sure  to  please  ;  and  as  for  little 
Marion,  only  let  her  grow  up,  and  she  will  be  as 
sensible  as  the  others." 

When  they  discussed  little  Fadette  in  her  turn, 
and  passed  judgment  upon  her,  they  said  : 

"There  she  is,  running  away  quickly,  without 
stopping  to  dance  or  sing.  No  one  has  seen  her 
since  the  feast  of  St.  Andoche.  She  must  have 
been  greatly  disgusted  by  the  rudeness  of  the  chil- 
dren who  pulled  off  her  cap  in  the  dance  ;  for  she 
has  changed  her  great  coif,  and  now  she  is  really 
no  worse  looking  than  other  girls." 

"  Have  you  noticed  how  white  her  skin  has 
grown  lately?"  said  Mother  Couturier.  "Her 
face  used  to  be  so  blotched  with  red  that  it  looked 
like  a  quail's  egg  ;  but  last  time  I  saw  her  I  was 
astonished  to  observe  how  white  she  had  grown, 
and  she  was  so  pale  that  I  even  asked  her  if  she 
had  not  had  the  fever.  Looking  at  her  now,  we 
can   imagine   that   she   will    improve ;    and    who 

188 


FADETTE 

knows? — plenty  of  ugly  girls  have  become  pretty 
at  sixteen  or  seventeen." 

"And  then  they  grow  more  sensible,"  said  Father 
Naubin  ;  "and  they  learn  how  to  dress  becomingly, 
and  how  to  please.  It  is  really  time  for  the  Cricket 
to  find  out  that  she  is  not  a  boy.  Heavens !  we 
all  thought  that  she  would  turn  out  to  be  the  dis- 
grace of  the  town  ;  but  she  will  reform  and  settle 
down  like  other  girls.  She  will  feel  it  necessary  to 
make  amends  for  a  sinful  mother,  and  you  will  see 
that  nobody  will  be  able  to  say  anything  against 
her." 

11  May  Heaven  grant  it,"  said  Mother  Courtillet ; 
"  for  it  is  a  bad  thing  for  a  girl  to  look  like  a 
loose  horse  ;  but  I,  too,  have  hopes  of  Fadette,  for  I 
met  her  the  day  before  yesterday,  and,  instead  of 
walking  behind  me,  as  usual,  to  imitate  my  lame- 
ness, she  spoke  to  me,  and  asked  after  my  health 
very  politely." 

"That  little  girl  whom  you  are  all  speaking  of 
is  more  foolish  than  she  is  malicious,"  said  Father 
Henri.  "  Her  heart  is  not  bad,  I  can  tell  you,  and 
the  proof  is  that  she  has  often  kept  my  grand- 
children in  the  fields  with  her,  out  of  pure  kind- 
ness, when  my  daughter  was  ill  ;  and  she  took 
189 


FADETTE 

such  good  care  of  them  that  they  did  not  want  to 
leave  her." 

"I  have  heard,"  said  Mother  Couturier,  "that 
one  of  Father  Barbeau's  twins  was  infatuated  with 
her  on  the  day  of  St.  Andoche.     Is  it  true?" 

"Come,"  answered  Father  Naubin;  "you  must 
not  take  that  seriously.  It  was  only  a  childish 
fancy,  and  none  of  the  Barbeaus  are  stupid,  father, 
mother,  or  children.     Can  you  not  understand?" 

Thus  they  talked  of  little  Fadette;  but,  for  the 
most  part,  nobody  thought  of  her,  for  she  was 
hardly  ever  seen. 


J  90 


CHAPTER    XXIV 


THERE  was  one  person,  however,  who  saw 
her  often  and  thought  a  great  cbal  of  her, 
and  that  was  Landry  Barbeau.  He  was  like  a  crazed 
creature  when  he  could  not  speak  with  her  at  his 
leisure  ;  but  as  soon  as  he  had  been  a  minute  in 
her  company,  he  grew  calm  and  contented,  because 
she  soothed  him  and  taught  him  to  be  reasonable. 
She  played  with  him  a  little  game  which  may 
have  been  slightly  tinged  with  coquetry  ;  at  least 
he  thought  so ;  but  as  her  motive  was  honorable, 
and  she  was  unwilling  to  accept  his  love  until  he 
had  perfectly  considered  the  matter,  he  could  not 
complain.  She  could  not  suspect  him  of  trying  to 
deceive  her  on  the  strength  of  his  love,  for  it  was  a 
kind  of  love  rarely  found  among  people  who  live 
in  the  country,  as  they  are  less  passionate  in  their 
affections  than  those  who  dwell  in  cities.  Lamlry's 
character,  too,  was  less  passionate  than  that  of  many 
191 


FADETTE 

others,  and  nobody  could  have  guessed  that  his 
wings  would  be  so  severely  singed  in  the  flame  of 
the  candle.  He  was  careful  to  hide  his  secret,  and 
anybody  who  had  discovered  it  would  have  been 
amazed.  But  when  little  Fadette  saw  he  was  sud- 
denly and  entirely  hers,  she  feared  lest  the  blaze 
might  be  only  of  straw,  or  lest  she  herself  might 
catch  fire  foolishly,  and  that  their  love-affair  might 
go  further  than  propriety  allowed,  in  as  much  as 
they  were  still  children — too  young  to  be  married, 
at  least  according  to  the  dictates  of  prudence  and 
of  parents  ;l'for  love  is  impatient,  and  when  it  is 
once  kindled  in  the  hearts  of  two  young  people, 
it  would  be  a  miracle  if  it  should  wait  for  the 
approbation  of  others.  \ 

Little  Fadette  had  been  outwardly  a  child  longer 
than  most  girls,  but  she  possessed  good  sense  and 
a  strength  of  will  much  in  advance  of  her  age. 
To  allow  this,  her  mind  must  have  been  of  heroic 
force  ;  for  her  heart  was  ardent,  and  perhaps  even 
more  ardent  than  Landry's.  She  loved  him  to 
madness,  and  yet  she  behaved  with  singular  dis- 
cretion ;  for  though  by  day,  by  night,  and  at  all 
hours  she  thought  of  him,  and  burned  with  im- 
patience to  see  him,  and  with  desire  to  caress  him, 

192 


FADETTE 

as  soon  as  she  saw  him,  she  became  calm,  spoke 
sensibly,  pretended  not  to  know  what  passionate 
love  was,  and  permitted  him  no  favor  beyond  a 
shake  of  the  hand. 

And  though  Landry  was  so  bewitched  by  her 
that  he  might  have  lost  his  self-control  when  they 
were  together  in  lonely  places,  or  under  cover  of 
the  darkness  of  night,  he  was  yet  in  such  fear  of 
her  displeasure,  and  was  so  uncertain  that  she  really 
loved  him,  that  he  spent  his  time  with  her  as 
innocently  as  if  she  had  been  his  sister,  and  he 
Jeanet  the  little  Grasshopper. 

To  distract  his  mind  from  ideas  she  was  unwill- 
ing to  encourage,  she  instructed  him  in  the  things 
she  knew,  in  which  her  wit  and  cleverness  had  far 
outdone  her  grandmother's  teaching.  She  made 
no  mysteries  with  Landry,  and  as  he  had  always 
been  a  little  in  awe  of  witchcraft,  she  took  all 
possible  pains  to  make  him  understand  that  the 
devil  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  secret  of  her 
knowledge. 

"You  see,  Landry,"  said   she  to    him    one  day, 

"there  is  no  such  thing  as  the  intervention  of  the 

evil  spirit.    There  is  but  one  Spirit,  and  it  is  good,  [y 

for   it    is  God's.      Lucifer  is  the  invention  of  the 

13  ~~~>*93 ' ' • 


FADETTE 

priest,  and  the   hobgoblin  is  the  invention  of  all 


the  old  crones  of  the  country.  When  I  was  a  child 
I  believed  in  it  all,  and  was  afraid  of  my  grand- 
mother's evil  spells  ;  but  she  laughed  at  me,  for  it 
is  a  truth  that  if  anybody  is  skeptical,  it  is  that 
person  who  is  trying  to  impose  on  others,  and  no- 
body believes  less  in  Satan  than  the  sorcerers  who 
invoke  him  on  all  occasions.  They  know  that  they 
have  never  seen  him,  and  that  they  have  never 
had  the  least  assistance  from  him.  Those  who  are 
foolish  enough  to  believe  in  him  and  to  call  upon 
him,  have  never  been  able  to  make  him  come. 
For  instance,  there  is  the  miller  of  the  Passe-au- 
Chiens,  who,  as  my  grandmother  has  told  me,  used 
to  go  off  to  the  cross-roads  with  a  big  cudgel  to 
call  up  the  devil,  and  to  give  him,  as  he  expected, 
a  good  thrashing.  At  night  he  was  heard  crying 
out :  '  Are  you  coming,  old  wolf?  Are  you  coming, 
mad  dog?  Are  you  coming,  hobgoblin  of  a  devil?' 
But  the  hobgoblin  never  came,  and  the  miller 
nearly  went  mad  with  vanity ;  for  he  thought  the 
devil  was  afraid  of  him." 

"  But,"  Landry  would  say,  "it  is  not  exactly 
Christian  to  disbelieve  in  the  devil,  my  little 
Fanchon." 

194 


FADETTE 

tl  I  cannot  argue  about  it,"  she  answered  ;  u  but 
if  he  exists,  I  am  very  sure  that  he  has  no  power 
to  come  upon  earth  to  harm  us,  and  to  require  our 
souls  of  us,  to  steal  them  from  God.  He  could  not 
be  so  insolent;  and  since  the  earth  is  the  Lord's, 
the  Lord  alone  can  govern  it  and  the  men  that 
live  upon  it." 

So  Landry  recovered  from  his  foolish  terror,  and 
it  excited  his  admiration  to  see  what  a  good  Chris- 
tian little  Fadette  was  in  all  her  thoughts  and 
prayers.  Even  her  piety  was  more  attractive  than 
that  of  other  people.  She  loved  God  with  all  the 
fire  of  her  heart,  for  her  intelligence  was  always 
keen,  and  her  heart  always  tender  ;  and  when  she 
spoke  to  Landry  of  her  love  toward  God,  he  was 
astonished  that  he  had  been  taught  to  repeat  prayers 
and  to  follow  practices  which  he  had  never  thought 
of  understanding,  and  that  though  his  attitude  to- 
ward them  had  always  been  respectful,  his  heart 
had  never  been  kindled  with  love  for  his  Creator, 
like  little  Fadette's. 


»95 


CHAPTER  XXV 

BY  walking  and  talking  with  her,  he  learned 
the  properties  of  herbs  and  recipes  of  all 
kinds  for  the  cure  of  man  and  beast.  He  was  soon 
able  to  try  the  effect  of  his  remedies  on  one  of 
Father  Caillaud's  cows,  which  had  eaten  too  much 
green  food,  and  was  swollen  up  in  consequence. 
After  the  veterinary  had  left  her,  saying  that  she 
had  but  an  hour  to  live,  Landry  gave  her  a  potion 
that  little  Fadette  had  taught  him  to  compound. 
He  did  it  without  anybody's  knowledge,  and  when 
the  laborers,  who  were  much  vexed  by  the  loss  of 
such  a  fine  cow,  came  in  the  morning  to  throw  her 
body  in  a  ditch,  the  swelling  had  almost  entirely 
disappeared ;  her  eye  was  bright,  and  they  found 
her  on  her  legs,  beginning  to  sniff  at  her  food. 
Another  time  a  colt  was  bitten  by  a  viper,  and 
Landry,  following  faithfully  little  Fadette's  teach- 
ing, succeeded  in  curing  it  speedily.  Again,  too, 
196 


FADETTE 

he  tested  a  remedy  for  hydrophobia  upon  a  dog  at 
the  Priche,  and  he  cured  it  before  it  had  bitten 
anybody.  As  Landry  carefully  concealed  his  ac- 
quaintance with  little  Fadette,  he  did  not  boast  of 
his  knowledge,  and  the  cures  he  wrought  on  cat- 
tle were  attributed  solely  to  the  great  care  he  be- 
stowed upon  them.  But  Father  Caillaud,  who,  like 
every  good  farmer,  understood  something  of  the 
matter,  was  surprised,  and  said: 

"Father  Barbeau  has  no  skill  in  cattle-raising, 
and  I  may  even  call  him  unfortunate;  for  he  lost 
several  animals  last  year,  and  it  was  not  the  first 
time.  But  Landry  has  a  happy  knack,  and  that  is 
something  one  is  born  with.  A  man  either  has  it 
or  does  not  have  it ;  and  even  when  people  go  to 
study  in  the  schools,  like  the  veterinary  surgeons, 
they  learn  nothing  unless  they  are  born  clever. 
Now,  I  tell  you  that  Landry  is  clever,  and  that  he 
can  invent  the  right  remedies.  He  has  a  natural 
gift,  and  it  will  be  worth  more  to  him  than  capital 
in  the  management  of  a  farm." 

Father  Caillaud  did  not  speak  like  a  credulous  or 

ignorant  man,  only  he  was  mistaken  in  attributing 

a  natural  gift  to  Landry.    Landry  had  no  gift,  save 

that  of  being  painstaking  and    intelligent  in   the 

I3*  197 


FADETTE 

remedies  which  had  been  taught  him.  Still,  a 
natural  gift  is  no  fable,  since  little  Fadette  possessed 
it ;  and  since,  by  aid  of  the  few  simple  lessons  her 
grandmother  had  given  her,  she  divined  and  dis- 
covered the  virtues  which  God  has  placed  in  cer- 
tain herbs  and  in  certain  methods  of  using  them,  as 
readily  as  if  she  were  inventing  them  herself.  For 
this  she  needed  no  witchcraft,  and  she  was  right  to 
deny  the  imputation;  but  she  had  an  observing 
mind,  which  enabled  her  to  make  comparisons  and 
careful  experiments;  and  no  one  can  doubt  that  is  a 
natural  gift.  Father  Caillaud  went  still  further,  and 
affirmed  that  such  and  such  a  herdsman  or  laborer  is 
more  or  less  lucky,  and  that  by  the  mere  virtue  of 
his  presence  in  the  stable  he  helps  or  harms  the 
animals.  However,  as  there  is  always  a  grain  of 
truth  in  the  most  superstitious  beliefs,  it  must  be 
acknowledged  that  careful  management,  cleanliness, 
and  conscientious  toil  have  an  especial  power  to 
bring  success  where  carelessness  and  stupidity  bring 
misfortune. 

As  Landry  had  always  a  taste  and  fancy  for  such 
things,  his  love  for  Fadette  increased  with  the  grat- 
itude he  owed  her  for  her  teaching,  and  with  the 
great  admiration  he  felt  for  the  young  girl's  clever- 

198 


FADETTE 

ness.  He  was  thankful  to  her  now  that  she  had 
forbidden  his  making  love  to  her  in  the  walks  and 
talks  they  had  together;  and  he  now  recognized 
that  she  had  more  at  heart  the  best  interests  and 
usefulness  of  her  lover,  than  her  own  pleasure  in 
allowing  him  to  pay  her  his  court  and  flatter  her 
continually,  as  his  first  desire  had  prompted  him 
to  do. 

Landry  was  soon  so  deep  in  love  that  he  had 
quite  overcome  all  feeling  of  shame  incident  to  the 
possible  discovery  of  his  love  for  a  girl  who  had 
the  reputation  of  being  ugly,  ill-tempered,  and 
badly  brought  up.  If  he  still  took  precautions,  it 
was  because  of  his  twin,  whose  jealousy  he  well 
knew,  and  who  had  already  made  a  great  effort  to 
be  reconciled  to  Landry's  attachment  to  Madelon  — 
an  attachment  which  had  been  indeed  very  slight 
and  unimpassioned  compared  to  that  he  now  felt 
for  Fanchon  Fadet. 

But  if  Landry  loved  too  warmly  to  think  of  pru- 
dence, little  Fadette,  on  the  contrary,  was  naturally 
inclined  toward  mystery  ;  and,  moreover,  she  was 
unwilling  that  Landry  should  undergo  the  ordeal 
of  his  friends'  raillery.  Little  Fadette,  in  short, 
loved  him  too  much  to  be  the  cause  of  trouble  in  his 
199 


FADETTE 

family,  and  therefore  exacted  from  him  such  entire 
secrecy  that  nearly  a  year  elapsed  before  their  affec- 
tion was  discovered.  Landry  had  gradually  taught 
Sylvinet  not  to  keep  such  strict  guard  over  his  steps 
and  actions  ;  and  the  country,  which  is  sparsely  in- 
habited and  thickly  wooded,  is  very  propitious  to 
secret  loves. 

When  Sylvinet  saw  that  Landry  thought  no  more 
of  Madelon,  though  he  had  accepted  the  division 
of  his  brother's  affection  as  a  necessary  evil,  made 
more  tolerable  by  Landry's  bashfulness  and  the  girl's 
discretion,  he  was  rejoiced  to  find  that  Landry  was 
in  no  haste  to  withdraw  his  heart  to  bestow  it  upon 
a  woman  ;  and  as  he  no  longer  felt  any  jealousy,  he 
left  him  more  freedom  in  his  walks  and  amusements 
on  feast-days  and  holidays.  Landry  wanted  no 
pretexts  for  going  and  coming,  especially  on  Sun- 
day evenings,  when  he  left  the  Twinnery  at  an 
early  hour,  and  never  reached  the  Priche  till  mid- 
night, and  he  found  this  very  easy,  for  he  had  asked 
to  have  a  little  bed  made  for  him  in  the  capharnion. 
You  may  perhaps  correct  me  for  this  word,  because 
the  schoolmaster  objects  to  it,  and  wishes  every- 
body to  say  capharnaiim ;  but  if  he  knows  the 
word,  he  does  not  know  what  it  means,  for  I  have 
200 


FADETTE 

been  obliged  to  explain  to  him  that  it  is  a  place  in 
the  barn,  near  the  stables,  where  they  keep  yokes, 
chains,  horseshoes,  and  tools  of  all  kinds  used  for 
the  farm  animals  and  for  the  cultivation  of  the 
earth.  Thus  Landry  could  go  home  at  any  hour 
he  chose  without  disturbing  anybody  ;  and  he 
always  had  his  Sundays  to  himself  until  Monday 
morning,  because  Father  Caillaud  and  his  eldest 
son,  who  were  very  judicious  men  and  never  went 
to  the  tavern  or  drank  to  excess  on  holidays,  were 
accustomed  on  such  days  to  assume  the  whole 
charge  and  management  of  the  farm ;  so  that  all  the 
young  people  in  the  house,  who,  as  they  said, 
worked  harder  than  they  did  on  week-days,  should 
be  free  to  frolic  and  amuse  themselves  according 
to  God's  decree. 

In  the  winter,  when  the  nights  are  so  cold  that 
it  would  be  difficult  to  talk  of  love  in  the  open 
fields,  Landry  and  little  Fadette  found  a  safe  refuge 
in  Jacot's  tower,  an  old  deserted  dove-cote  which 
the  pigeons  had  abandoned  years  ago,  but  which 
was  well  closed  and  protected.  It  belonged  to 
Father  Caillaud's  farm,  and  he  even  still  made  use 
of  it  for  storing  the  surplus  of  his  crops  ;  and  since 
Landry  kept  the  key,  and  the  tower  stands  on  the 
201 


FADETTE 

boundaries  of  the  farm  of  the  Priche,  in  the  middle 
of  a  walled  clover-field,  nobody  but  the  devil  him- 
self could  have  interrupted  the  interviews  of  our 
two  young  lovers.  When  the  weather  was  mild, 
they  roamed  about  the  groves,  which  are  young 
woods  ready  for  felling,  and  are  scattered  all  over 
the  country.  They  afford  excellent  shelter  for  rob- 
bers and  lovers ;  and  as  we  have  no  robbers  in  our 
country,  lovers  take  advantage  of  them,  and  find  in 
them  a  safe  and  agreeable  retreat. 


202 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


AS  no  secret  can  last  always,  it  happened  that 
L  one  fine  Sunday,  as  Sylvinet  passed  along 
the  cemetery  wall,  he  heard  the  voice  of  his  twin, 
who  was  speaking  at  a  distance  of  a  few  steps  from 
him.  Landry  was  speaking  in  a  low  tone ;  but 
Sylvinet  was  so  familiar  with  his  voice,  that  he 
would  have  guessed  his  meaning  even  if  he  had 
not  heard  his  words. 

"Why  do  you  not  want  to  dance?"  Landry  was 
saying  to  somebody  whom  Sylvinet  could  not  see. 
"It  is  such  a  long  time  since  you  have  been  seen 
stopping  after  mass  that  no  one  will  criticize  my 
dancing  with  you,  as  my  acquaintance  with  you 
has  been  almost  forgotten.  They  will  not  think 
that  I  do  it  out  of  love,  but  out  of  politeness,  and 
because  I  am  curious  to  find  out  whether  you  can 
still  dance  well  after  so  long  an  interval." 

"  No,  Landry,  no,"  answered  a  voice  which  Syl- 
203 


FADETTE 

vinet  did  not  recognize.  It  was  long  since  he  had 
heard  it,  as  little  Fadette  had  kept  herself  aloof  from 
everybody,  and  particularly  from  him. 

"No,"  said  she;  "it  is  much  better  for  me  not 
to  attract  attention  ;  and  if  you  danced  with  me  once 
you  would  want  to  begin  again  every  Sunday,  and 
that  would  be  more  than  enough  to  make  people 
talk  of  us.  Believe  what  I  have  always  told  you, 
Landry  :  the  day  when  our  love  is  discovered  will 
be  the  beginning  of  our  sorrows.  Let  me  go  home, 
and  after  you  have  passed  a  part  of  the  day  with 
your  family  and  twin,  you  may  come  to  meet  me 
wherever  we  shall  agree." 

"It  is  so  melancholy  never  to  dance,"  said  Lan- 
dry ;  "you  used  to  be  so  fond  of  dancing,  my  dar- 
ling, and  you  danced  so  well !  How  much  pleasure 
I  should  feel  in  taking  your  hand  and  holding  you 
in  my  arms,  and  in  knowing  that  you,  who  are  so 
graceful  and  light  of  foot,  dance  with  me  alone !  " 

"That  is  just  what  I  could  not  do,"  answered 
she.  "  But  I  see  that  you  long  to  dance,  dear  Lan- 
dry, and  I  do  not  see  why  you  have  given  it  up. 
Do  go  and  dance  a  little  ;  it  will  make  me  happy 
to  think  that  you  are  enjoying  yourself,  and  I  shall 
wait  for  you  more  patiently." 
204 


FADETTE 

''Oh,  you  have  too  much  patience,"  answered 
Landry  in  a  voice  that  showed  he  himself  had 
none;  "but  I  should  rather  cut  off  my  legs  than 
dance  with  girls  I  do  not  like,  and  whom  I  would 
not  kiss  for  a  hundred  francs!  " 

"  Very  well,  if  I  danced,"  said  little  Fadette,  "  I 
should  have  to  dance  with  other  young  men  be- 
sides you,  and  let  them  kiss  me,  too." 

"  Go  home,  then;  go  home  as  quickly  as  you 
can,"  said  Landry:  "I  do  not  wish  anybody  to 
kiss  you." 

Sylvinet  heard  nothing  further  than  the  sound 
of  retracing  footsteps,  and  in  order  to  escape  being 
found  eavesdropping  by  his  brother,  who  was  ap- 
proaching, he  slipped  hastily  into  the  cemetery, 
and  let  him  pass  by. 

This  discovery  was  a  knife-thrust  to  Sylvinet's 
heart.  He  did  not  seek  to  discover  the  name  of 
the  girl  whom  Landry  loved  so  passionately.  It  was 
enough  for  him  to  know  that  Landry  had  deserted 
him  for  somebody  else,  and  that  this  other  person 
was  in  possession  of  all  the  thoughts  which  were 
hidden  from  him,  and  that  he  was  no  longer  in 
his  brother's  confidence. 

"He  must  mistrust  me,"  thought  he,  "and  this 
205 


FADETTE 

girl  he  loves  must  try  to  induce  him  to  fear  and 
detest  me.  I  am  no  longer  surprised  that  he  is 
always  so  bored  at  home,  and  so  restless  when  I 
want  to  go  to  walk  with  him.  I  gave  it  up,  think- 
ing that  he  had  a  fancy  for  being  alone  ;  but  now 
I  shall  take  great  care  not  to  bother  him.  I  shall 
not  say  anything  to  him,  for  he  would  be  angry 
with  me  for  finding  out  what  he  was  not  willing 
to  intrust  me  with.  I  shall  suffer  alone,  and  he 
will  be  delighted  to  get  rid  of  me." 

Sylvinet  did  as  he  determined,  and  he  even  car- 
ried his  resolution  further  than  was  necessary ; 
for  not  only  did  he  no  longer  try  to  keep  his 
brother  with  him,  but  in  order  to  avoid  putting 
him  under  any  restraint,  he  was  always  the  first  to 
leave  the  house,  and  went  off  to  indulge  in  solitary 
reveries,  never  taking  long  walks  in  the  country. 

"  For,"  thought  he,  "  if  I  happened  to  meet 
Landry,  he  would  think  that  I  was  spying  him, 
and  would  make  me  feel  that  I  was  in  his  way." 

So  little  by  little  his  old  sorrow,  which  had  been 
almost  healed,  returned  upon  him  so  heavily  and 
persistently  that  it  was  not  slow  to  show  itself  in 
his  face.  His  mother  chided  him  gently;  but  as 
he  was  ashamed  to  acknowledge  at  eighteen  the 
206 


FADETTE 

same  weaknesses  of  mind  he  had  known  at  fifteen, 
he.  was  always  unwilling  to  confess  the  trouble 
which  was  consuming  him. 

It  was  this  that  saved  him  from  illness;  for  God 
abandons  only  those  who  abandon  themselves,  and 
whoever  has  the  courage  to  shut  up  his  sorrow 
within  his  own  heart  is  stronger  to  fight  against  it 
than  he  who  complains.  The  poor  twin  became 
habitually  sad  and  pale,  and  had  from  time  to  time 
attacks  of  fever;  and  though  he  continued  to  grow 
somewhat  taller,  he  remained  slight  and  delicate 
in  person.  He  was  not  very  steady  at  his  work, 
but  it  was  not  his  fault,  for  he  knew  that  work 
was  good  for  him  ;  it  was  enough  for  him  to  vex 
his  father  by  his  melancholy,  and  he  did  not  wish 
to  irritate  and  wrong  him  by  his  faint-heartedness. 
So  he  set  to  work,  and  toiled  because  he  was  angry 
with  himself.  He  often  attempted  to  do  more 
than  he  could  stand,  and  the  next  day  he  was  so 
weary  that  he  could  make  no  further  exertion. 

"  He  will  never  be  a  strong  workman,"  said 
Father  Barbeau  ;  "  but  he  works  as  much  as  he  can, 
and  when  he  can,  and  does  not  spare  himself. 
That  is  why  I  do  not  wish  to  hire  him  out  to  other 
masters;  for  his  fear  of  a  sharp  reprimand  and  the 
207 


FADETTE 

little  strength  God  has  given  him  would  soon  be 
his  death,  and  I  should  have  to  reproach  myself 
all  my  life." 

Mother  Barbeau  approved  these  reasons,  and  did 
all  she  could  to  cheer  Sylvinet.  She  consulted 
several  doctors  in  regard  to  his  health,  and  some  of 
them  told  her  to  take  great  care  of  him  and  give 
him  nothing  but  milk  to  drink,  because  he  was 
delicate  ;  others  said  that  he  must  be  set  to  work, 
and  must  drink  plenty  of  good  wine,  because  being 
delicate  he  needed  strengthening.  Mother  Barbeau 
did  not  know  which  one  to  believe,  as  is  always 
the  case  when  people  go  to  many  doctors. 

Fortunately,  owing  to  her  indecision,  she  fol- 
lowed nobody's  advice,  and  Sylvinet  was  allowed 
to  walk  along  the  path  which  God  had  opened  for 
him,  without  meeting  anything  to  make  him  turn 
to  the  right  or  the  left ;  and  he  dragged  his  little 
burden  without  being  too  much  oppressed  by  it, 
up  to  the  moment  when  Landry's  love-affair  was 
made  public,  and  Sylvinet  found  his  own  trouble 
increased  by  all  that  his  brother  had  to  suffer. 


208 


CHAPTER    XXVII 


MADELON  was  the  first  to  detect  the  secret; 
and  though  she  made  the  discovery  unin- 
tentionally, she  did  not  fail  to  turn  it  to  bad  ac- 
count. She  was  consoled  for  losing  Landry,  and 
as  she  had  not  wasted  much  time  in  loving  him, 
she  had  not  needed  much  in  which  to  forget 
him.  Nevertheless,  she  nourished  in  her  heart  a 
slight  grudge,  which  needed  only  an  opportunity 
to  show  itself;  for  it  is  true  that  with  women 
pique  lasts  longer  than  love. 

It  all  happened  thus:  Pretty  Madelon,  who  was 
renowned  for  her  discreet  behavior  and  haughty 
manners  toward  young  men,  was  none  the  less  a 
flirt  at  the  bottom,  and  not  half  so  true  and  faith- 
ful in  her  affections  as  the  poor  Cricket,  of  whom 
so  much  evil  had  been  spoken  and  predicted.  Mad- 
elon had  already  had  two  admirers,  not  counting 
Landry,  and  she  was  making  up  her  mind  to  accept 
T4  209 


FADETTE 

a  third,  who  was  her  cousin,  the  youngest  son  of 
Father  Caillaud  of  the  Priche.  She  even  liked  him 
so  well  that  when  she  found  that  the  last  youth 
whom  she  had  encouraged  kept  close  watch  of  her, 
and  was  in  danger  of  making  an  explosion,  she 
did  not  know  where  to  find  a  safe  refuge  for  her 
interviews  with  her  new  love,  and  so  finally  con- 
sented to  chat  with  him  in  the  very  dove-cote 
where  Landry  and  little  Fadette  had  their  blame- 
less meetings. 

The  young  Caillaud  had  searched  everywhere  for 
the  key  of  the  dove-cote,  but  he  had  not  found  it, 
because  Landry  kept  it  in  his  pocket,  and  he  had 
not  dared  ask  anybody  for  it,  because  he  had  no  good 
reasons  to  give  in  explanation  of  his  request.  No- 
body but  Landry  knew  where  it  was,  and  young 
Caillaud,  believing  it  to  be  lost,  or  that  it  was 
in  his  father's  bunch  of  keys,  felt  no  scruple  about 
beating  in  the  door.  The  day  he  did  this  he 
found  Landry  and  Fadette  in  the  tower,  and  the 
four  lovers  were  so  much  abashed  at  seeing  one 
another  that  they  were  all  equally  bound  to  keep 
the  secret  and  to  divulge  nothing. 

But  Madelon  felt  a  rush  of  rage  and  jealousy  when 
she  found  that  Landry,  who  was  now  one  of  the 
2  10 


FADETTE 

best-looking  and  most  highly  esteemed  young  men 
in  the  country,  had  kept  such  perfect  faith  with 
little  Fadette,  ever  since  the  day  of  St.  Andoche; 
and  she  resolved  to  take  her  revenge.  To  ac- 
complish her  object  without  confiding  in  young 
Caillaud,  who  was  an  honest  man,  and  would  have 
refused  to  lend  his  hand,  she  called  to  her  assistance 
several  young  girls  among  her  friends,  who  were 
also  somewhat  vexed  by  Landry's  apparent  slight 
in  no  longer  asking  them  to  dance,  and  they  all 
set  to  watching  little  Fadette  so  strictly  that  before 
long  they  were  quite  sure  of  her  love  for  Landry. 
As  soon  as  they  had  espied  the  two,  and  seen  them 
together  a  few  times,  they  made  a  great  noise 
through  the  country,  saying  to  whomever  would 
listen — and  God  knows  whether  slander  ever 
needs  ears  to  hear  or  tongue  to  tell  —  that  Landry 
had  contracted  an  undue  intimacy  with  little 
Fadette. 

Then  all  the  feminine  part  of  the  young  popu- 
lation took  up  the  matter ;  for  when  a  good-look- 
ing and  well-to-do  fellow  pays  attention  to  one 
girl,  all  the  others  consider  it  an  insult  to  them- 
selves; and  if  there  is  any  fault  to  be  found  with 
her,  they  never  miss  the  opportunity.     It  must  be 

21  I 


FADETTE 

admitted,   also,   that    when    women    undertake    a 
piece  of  mischief,  it  goes  fast  and  far. 

Two  weeks  after  the  adventure  in  Jacot's  tower, 
without  any  mention  of  the  tower  or  of  Made- 
Ion,  who  had  been  very  careful  not  to  put  herself 
forward,  and  had  even  pretended  to  receive  as 
news  what  she  herself  had  secretly  discovered, 
everybody,  big  and  little,  old  and  young,  knew 
the  loves  of  Landry  the  twin  and  Fanchon  the 
Cricket. 

The  report  reached  the  ears  of  Mother  Barbeau, 
who  was  much  troubled  and  did  not  like  to  tell 
her  husband.  Father  Barbeau,  hov/ever,  learned 
it  elsewhere,  and  Sylvinet,  who  had  carefully  kept 
his  brother's  secret,  had  the  annoyance  of  finding 
out  that  everybody  knew  it. 

One  evening,  when  Landry  was  just  about  to 
leave  the  Twinnery  at  an  early  hour,  as  was  his 
wont,  his  father  said  to  him,  in  the  presence  of 
his  mother,  his  eldest  sister,  and  his  twin  : 

"  Do  not  be  in  such  haste  to  leave  us,  Landry, 
for  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  ;  I  am  waiting 
for  your  godfather,  for  I  wish  to  ask  an'  explana- 
tion of  you  before  all  those  members  of  the  family 
who  are  most  interested  in  your  welfare." 
212 


FADETTE 

When  the  godfather,  who  was  Uncle  Landriche, 
had  arrived,  Father  Barbeau  began  : 

"  What  I  have  to  say  to  you  will  cause  you  some 
mortification,  Landry,  and  it  is  not  without  some 
mortification  and  much  regret  myself  that  I  find 
myself  obliged  to  cross-question  you  before  the 
family.  But  I  trust  that  this  mortification  may  be 
of  use  to  you,  and  cure  you  of  a  fancy  which  would 
certainly  turn  to  your  disadvantage. 

"  It  seems  that  you  have  made  an  acquaintance 
which  dates  back  to  the  last  feast  of  St.  Andoche, 
nearly  a  year  ago.  I  heard  of  it  at  the  time,  for 
it  was  most  extraordinary  to  see  you  dancing  all 
day  with  a  girl  who  is  the  ugliest,  slovenliest,  and  of 
the  worst  repute  in  our  country.  I  wished  to  pay 
no  attention  to  it,  for  I  thought  that  you  had  merely 
amused  yourself,  and  1  did  not  exactly  approve  such 
a  diversion  ;  for  if  it  is  wrong  to  associate  with  bad 
people,  it  is  still  worse  to  add  to  their  humiliation 
and  to  the  burden  of  universal  dislike  they  have 
to  bear.  I  neglected  speaking  to  you  about  it,  be- 
cause, when  I  saw  you  look  so  depressed  the  next 
day,  I  was  convinced  that  you  were  regretting  what 
you  had  done,  and  would  not  fall  into  the  same  error 
a  second  time.  But  now,  this  last  week,  I  have 
x4*  213 


FADETTE 

heard  something  entirely  different ;  and  though  the 
report  comes  from  trustworthy  persons,  I  am  un- 
willing to  believe  it,  unless  you  are  unable  to  deny 
it.  If  I  have  wronged  you  by  my  suspicions,  you 
must  attribute  it  to  my  interest  in  your  welfare, 
and  to  my  responsibility  for  your  conduct  ;  and  if 
the  whole  story  is  a  falsehood,  you  will  make  me 
very  happy  by  giving  me  your  word,  and  by  assur- 
ing me  that  people  are  mistaken  in  their  efforts  to 
lower  you  in  my  esteem." 

"  Father,"  said  Landry,  "  will  you  be  so  kind 
as  to  tell  me  what  it  is  of  which  you  accuse  me, 
and  I  will  answer  you  truthfully,  and  according  to 
the  respect  I  owe  you." 

"  I  think  I  have  said  enough  to  you  to  give  you 
to  understand,  Landry,  that  you  are  accused  of 
carrying  on  a  dishonorable  intercourse  with  the 
granddaughter  of  Mother  Fadet,  who  is  a  very  bad 
old  woman,  not  to  speak  of  the  unfortunate  girl's 
own  mother,  who  disgracefully  abandoned  her 
husband,  her  children,  and  her  country,  to  fol- 
low the  camp.  You  are  accused  of  wandering 
about  everywhere  with  little  Fadette,  so  that  I  am 
inclined  to  fear  that  she  has  entangled  you  in  a 
wrongful  love-affair,  of  which  you  may  be  obliged 
214 


FADETTE 

to  repent  all  your  life.  Do  you  understand  at 
last  ?  » 

"  I  understand,  dear  Father,"  answered  Landry; 
"  and  allow  me,  please,  to  ask  one  question  before 
I  answer  you.  Is  it  because  of  her  family,  or  only 
because  of  herself,  that  you  consider  Fanchon  Fa- 
det  as  an  unfortunate  acquaintance  for  me?" 

"For  both  reasons,  of  course,"  said  Father  Bar- 
beau,  with  rather  more  severity  than  he  had  shown 
at  first ;  for  he  had  expected  to  see  Landry  much 
abashed,  and  found  him  self-possessed  and  resolute. 
"  First,"  he  went  on,  "  it  is  a  disgrace  for  the  girl 
to  come  of  such  bad  stock  ;  and  no  family  as  much 
esteemed  and  honored  as  mine  would  consent  to 
ally  itself  with  the  Fadet  family.  In  the  next  place, 
nobody  respects  or  trusts  little  Fadette  herself.  We 
have  watched  her  grow  up,  and  we  all  know  what 
she  is  good  for.  I  have  heard,  and  I  admit  that  I  my- 
self have  noticed  several  times  this  last  year,  that  she 
is  better  behaved,  that  she  no  longer  runs  about  with 
the  little  boys,  and  has  stopped  saying  rude  things 
to  people.  You  see  that  I  am  anxious  to  be  strictly 
just.  But  that  is  not  enough  to  make  me  believe 
that  a  girl  v/ho  has  been  so  ill  brought  up  can  ever 
make  a  respectable  wife  ;  and  knowing  her  grand- 
215 


FADETTE 

mother  as  I  do,  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that 
the  whole  thing  is  a  preconcerted  intrigue  for  the 
purpose  of  extracting  promises  from  you,  and  bring- 
ing shame  and  confusion  upon  you.  People  even 
talk  openly  of  consequences  attendant  upon  the 
young  girl's  wrong-doing  ;  and  though  I  am  unwill- 
ing to  believe  such  a  report  lightly,  I  should  be 
very  much  pained  if  it  were  true,  because  you  would 
certainly  be  suspected  and  considered  responsible, 
and  you  would  end  by  finding  yourself  involved  in 
scandal  and  a  lawsuit." 

Landry  had  made  up  his  mind  from  the  first  to 
keep  his  temper  and  to  answer  quietly,  but  he  now 
lost  patience.  He  turned  red  as  fire,  and  said,  spring- 
ing up  from  his  chair: 

"  Father,  the  people  who  told  you  that  lied  like 
dogs!  They  have  insulted  Fanchon  Fadet  so  out- 
rageously that  if  I  had  them  here  they  should  be 
obliged  to  fight  with  me  to  the  death.  Tell  them  that 
they  are  cowards  and  heathens  ;  let  them  come  to  say 
to  my  face  what  they  have  treacherously  insinuated 
behind  my  back,  and  we  shall  have  fair  play!" 

"  Do  not  fly  into  such  a  passion,  Landry,"  said 
Sylvinet,  overcome  with  grief.  "Our  father  does 
not  accuse  you  of  having  wronged  the  girl  ;  but  he 
216 


FADETTE 

fears  that  she  may  have  got  into  trouble  with  some- 
body else,  and  that  by  going  about  with  you  morn- 
ing, noon,  and  night,  she  is  trying  to  make  people 
believe  it  is  you  who  owe  her  reparation." 


21? 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 


LANDRY  was  somewhat  soothed  by  the  voice 
^  of  his  twin,  but  he  could  not  allow  such  words 
to  pass  without  taking  them  up. 

''Brother/'  he  said,  "you  understand  nothing 
of  all  this.  You  have  always  been  prejudiced  against 
little  Fadette,  and  you  do  not  know  her  at  all.  I 
care  very  little  about  what  may  be  said  of  me,  but 
I  cannot  allow  a  word  to  be  spoken  against  her, 
and  I  wish  to  set  my  father  and  mother  at  rest  by 
telling  them  myself  that  the  earth  does  not  hold 
another  girl  as  honest,  as  wise,  as  gocd,  and  as  dis- 
interested as  that  girl  is.  If  she  is  so  unlucky  as 
to  be  ill-connected,  she  deserves  the  more  praise 
for  being  what  she  is  ;  and  I  could  never  have  be- 
lieved that  any  Christian  soul  would  blame  her  for 
the  misfortune  of  her  birth." 

"It  seems  that  you  are  blaming  me,  Landry," 
said  Father  Barbeau,  rising  too,  to  show  that  he 
218 


FADETTE 

would  not  allow  any  more  words  on  the  subject. 
"  I  see  by  your  ill  humor  that  you  care  more  for 
Fadette  than  I  could  have  wished.  Since  you  are 
neither  sorry  nor  ashamed,  let  us  say  no  more  about 
it.  I  shall  reflect  on  what  I  must  do  to  cure  you 
of  this  piece  of  youthful  folly.  It  is  time  now  for 
you  to  go  home  to  your  master." 

"  You  must  not  go  off  like  that,"  cried  Sylvinet, 
holding  back  his  brother,  who  had  turned  to  go. 
"  Father,  Landry  is  so  grieved  to  have  displeased 
you  that  he  can  find  nothing  to  say.  Forgive  him, 
and  kiss  him,  or  he  will  cry  all  night  long,  and 
your  anger  will  be  too  great  a  punishment  for  him." 

Sylvinet  was  crying,  Mother  Barbeau  was  crying, 
and  the  eldest  sister  and  Uncle  Landriche  too.  No- 
body had  dry  eyes  except  Father  Barbeau  and  Lan- 
dry, and  their  hearts  were  bursting.  Still,  they 
kissed  each  other  at  the  request  of  the  others ;  and 
Father  Barbeau  exacted  no  promise  from  his  son, 
as  he  knew  that  where  love  is  at  stake  such  prom- 
ises are  apt  to  be  hazardous,  and  he  was  unwilling 
to  compromise  his  authority.  He  gave  Landry  to 
understand,  however,  that  he  would  not  allow  the 
matter  to  drop,  but  would  return  to  the  charge. 
Landry  went  away  wrathful  and  despairing.  Syl- 
219 


FADETTE 

vinet  wanted  to  follow  him,  but  he  dared  not,  as- 
he  was  certain  that  his  brother  would  go  to  confide 
his  troubles  to  little  Fadette;  and  so  he  went  to  bed 
in  such  a  melancholy  humor  that  he  sighed  all 
night,  and  dreamed  of  misfortune  in  the  family. 

Landry  went  directly  to  little  Fadette's  house, 
and  tapped  at  the  door.  Mother  Fadet  had  now 
grown  so  deaf  that  when  she  had  once  fallen  asleep 
nothing  roused  her ;  and  ever  since  Landry  had 
known  that  his  secret  was  discovered,  he  cculd 
only  talk  with  Fanchon  in  the  evening,  in  the  room 
where  both  the  old  woman  and  little  Jeanet  were 
sleeping.  Even  this  was  a  great  risk,  for  the  old 
witch  could  not  endure  him,  and  would  have  been 
more  apt  to  put  him  out  of  doors  with  a  broom- 
stick than  to  receive  him  with  politeness.  Landry 
told  his  trouble  to  Fadette,  and  found  her  perfectly 
brave  and  resigned.  At  first  she  tried  to  persuade 
him  that  it  would  be  for  his  best  interest  to  take 
back  his  heart  into  his  own  keeping,  and  to  think 
no  mere  of  her.  But  when  she  saw  that  he  grew 
more  and  more  distressed  and  rebellious,  she  in- 
duced him  to  submit  by  allowing  him  to  hope  in 
the  future. 

"Listen,  Landry,"  said  she  to  him;  "I  have 
220 


FADETTE 

always  foreseen  what  has  just  happened,  and  I  have 
often  considered  what  we  should  do  in  the  present 
case.  Your  father  is  not  in  the  wrong,  and  I  am 
not  angry  with  him;  for  it  is  his  love  for  you  that 
makes  him  fear  your  being  in  love  with  a  girl  as 
undeserving  as  I.  I  am  ready  to  forgive  him  for 
his  pride,  and  for  the  slight  injustice  he  does  me ; 
for  we  must  agree  that  I  was  a  madcap  in  my 
childhood,  and  you  yourself  found  fault  with  me 
the  first  day  you  began  to  care  for  me.  Even  if 
I  have  cured  myself  of  some  of  my  failings  in  the 
course  of  this  last  year,  it  is  not  a  long  enough 
time  to  inspire  your  father  with  confidence,  as  he 
himself  said  to  you  to-day.  Still  more  time  must 
pass,  and  little  by  little  the  prejudices  against  me 
will  subside  and  the  villainous  lies  they  tell  of  me 
will  die  away  of  themselves.  Your  father  and 
mother  will  sec  that  1  am  an  honest  girl,  and  that 
I  am  not  trying  to  corrupt  you  or  to  cheat  you  out 
of  money.  They  will  recognize  my  love  for  you 
as  honorable,  and  we  shall  be  able  to  see  each 
other  and  speak  together  openly.  In  the  mean 
time,  you  must  obey  your  father,  who  is  certain  to 
forbid  your  associating  with  me." 

11  I  can  never  have  so  much  courage,"  said  Lan- 

221 


FADETTE 

dry;  "I  should  rather  throw  myself  into  the 
river." 

"  Very  well,  if  you  cannot,  I  shall  have  it  for 
you,"  said  little  Fadette  ;  "1  shall  go  away,  and 
shall  leave  the  country  for  a  little  while.  There  is 
a  good  situation  in  town  which  has  been  open  to 
me  for  two  months  past.  My  grandmother  is  now 
so  deaf  and  old  that  she  hardly  pays  any  more  at- 
tention to  compounding  and  selling  her  medicines, 
and  she  is  unable  to  give  any  more  consultations. 
She  has  a  relation,  a  very  good  woman,  who  offers 
to  come  and  live  with  her,  and  will  take  excellent 
care  of  her  and  of  my  poor  Grasshopper." 

Here  little  Fadette's  voice  choked  for  a  moment 
at  the  idea  of  leaving  the  child,  whom,  next  to 
Landry,  she  loved  best  in  the  world;  but  she  took 
courage  and  said : 

"Now  he  is  strong  enough  to  do  without  me. 
He  is  going  to  make  his  first  communion,  and  he 
will  be  so  interested  in  going  to  catechism  with 
the  other  children  that  he  will  forget  his  grief  at 
losing  me.  You  must  have  observed  how  good  he 
has  grown  to  be,  and  that  he  no  longer  flies  into 
passion  with  the  other  children.  In  short,  this 
must  be,  —  Landry,  do  not  you  see?     I  must  give 

222 


FADETTE 

people  time  to  forget  me,  for  just  now  I  am  the 
object  of  much  anger  and  jealousy  in  this  place. 
After  a  year  or  two  spent  at  a  distance,  when  I 
come  home  with  good  recommendations  and  a  fair 
name,  which  I  can  acquire  elsewhere  more  easily 
than  here,  nobody  will  torment  us  any  more,  and 
we  shall  be  better  friends  than  ever." 

Landry  would  not  listen  to  this  plan  ;  he  gave 
way  to  despair,  and  went  home  to  the  Priche  in  a 
state  of  mind  which  would  have  extorted  pity  from 
his  worst  enemy. 

Two  days  afterward,  as  he  was  busy  with  the 
tubs  for  the  vintage,  Cadet  Caillaud  said  to  him: 

11  I  am  sure  that  you  are  angry  with  me,  Landry  ; 
for  you  have  not  spoken  to  me  for  some  time. 
You  probably  believe  that  it  is  I  who  spread  the 
report  of  your  love-affair  with  little  Fadette,  and 
1  am  sorry  that  you  can  think  me  capable  of  such 
meanness.  As  true  as  God  is  in  heaven,  I  never 
breathed  a  word,  and  I  am  grieved  that  you  should 
have  so  much  to  suffer ;  for  1  have  always  thought 
the  world  of  you,  and  I  never  did  any  harm  to 
little  Fadette.  I  am  even  willing  to  acknowledge 
that  I  respect  the  girl  ever  since  our  meeting  in  the 
dove-cote ;  for  she  has  had  ample  opportunity  to 
223 


FADETTE 

gossip,  and  yet  she  has  been  so  discreet  that  no- 
body has  heard  a  word  from  her  lips.  She  might 
have  made  use  of  what  she  knew,  however,  if  it 
were  only  to  take  her  revenge  on  Madelon,  whom 
she  well  knows  to  be  the  author  of  all  the  scandal, 
but  she  has  not  done  so ;  and  I  see,  Landry,  that 
we  must  not  trust  to  appearance  or  reputation. 
Little  Fadette  passed  for  a  bad  girl,  but  she  has 
turned  out  to  be  most  kind  ;  Madelon,  who  passed 
for  a  good  girl,  has  proved  false,  not  only  to  Fadette 
and  to  you,  but  also  to  me,  and  at  present  I  see 
great  reason  to  complain  of  her  want  of  faith." 

Landry  readily  accepted  the  explanations  of  Cadet 
Caillaud,  who  did  his  best  to  console  his  friend  in 
his  distress. 

"  People  have  been  very  unkind  to  you,  poor 
Landry,"  said  he,  as  he  ended;  "but  you  must 
take  comfort  in  little  Fadette's  good  conduct.  She 
does  right  to  go  away,  to  put  an  end  to  the  disturb- 
ance in  your  family,  and  I  have  just  told  her  so,  as 
I  said  good-by  to  her  on  the  road." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Cadet?"  exclaimed  Landry; 
"  is  she  going  away  ?    Has  she  gone  ?  " - 

"  Did  you  not  know  it?"  said  Cadet.  "  I  sup. 
posed  that  it  was  agreed  between  you,  and  that 
224 


FADETTE 

you  did  not  go  with  her  to  avoid  criticism.  But 
she  is  certainly  going;  she  passed  right  by  our 
house  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  and 
she  was  carrying  her  little  bundle  under  her  arm. 
She  was  going  to  Chateau-Meillant,  and  by  this 
time  she  cannot  be  farther  off  than  Vieille-Ville,  or 
the  hill  of  Urmont." 

Landry  left  his  goad  leaning  up  against  the  yoke 
of  his  oxen,  started  off,  and  never  stopped  till  he 
caught  up  with  little  Fadette  in  the  sandy  road 
which  goes  down  from  the  vineyard  of  Urmont  to 
Fremelaine. 

There,  exhausted  by  grief,  and  by  his  long  run, 
he  sank  down  across  the  path  without  the  power 
of  speech,  making  signs  to  the  girl  that  if  she  meant 
to  leave  him,  she  must  tread  upon  his  prostrate 
body. 

After  he  had  somewhat  recovered,  little  Fadette 
said  to  him  : 

"  I  wished  to  spare  you  this  trouble,  dear  Lan- 
dry, and  now  you  are  doing  all  you  can  to  take 
away  my  strength.  Be  a  man,  and  do  not  try  to 
rob  me  of  my  courage  ;  I  need  more  than  you  im- 
agine, and  when  I  think  that  poor  little  Jeanet  is 
crying  and  looking  for  me  at  this  very  moment,  I 
J5  225 


FADETTE 

feel  so  weak  that  I  am  ready  to  dash  my  head  against 
these  stones.  Ah  !  Landry,  I  beg  of  you  to  help 
me  instead  of  turning  me  aside  from  my  duty  ;  for 
if  I  do  not  go  away  to-day,  I  shall  never  go,  and 
we  shall  be  lost." 

"Fanchon!  Fanchon!  you  do  not  need  any  such 
great  courage,"  answered  Landry.  "  You  are  only 
regretting  a  child  who  will  soon  forget  you  because 
he  is  a  child.  You  do  not  care  for  my  despair ; 
you  do  not  know  what  love  is  ;  you  feel  none  for 
me,  and  you  will  soon  forget  me,  so  that  perhaps 
you  will  never  come  back." 

"I  shall  come  back,  Landry;  I  take  God  to  wit- 
ness that  I  shall  come  back  in  a  year  at  the  soonest, 
and  in  two  years  at  the  latest,  and  that  I  shall  re- 
member you  so  well  that  1  shall  never  have  another 
friend  or  another  lover." 

"It  may  be  that  you  will  never  have  another 
such  friend,  Fanchon,  because  you  will  never  find 
one  as  obedient  as  I ;  but  I  cannot  tell  about  another 
lover;  who  can  answer  for  it?" 

"  1  can  answer  for  it." 

"You  know  nothing  about  it  yourself,  Fadette; 
you  have  never  known  what  love  is,  and  when  it 
comes  to  you,  you  will  never  remember  your  poor 
226 


FADETTE 

Landry.  Ah  !  if  you  had  loved  me  as  I  love  you, 
you  would  never  leave  me  like  this." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Landry?"  said  little  Fadette, 
looking  at  him  sadly  and  seriously.  "  Perhaps  you 
do  not  know  what  you  are  saying.  I  myself  believe 
that  I  should  be  more  easily  governed  by  love  than 
friendship." 

11  If  you  were  really  governed  by  love,  I  should 
not  suffer  so  much.  O  Fanchon  !  if  it  were  only 
love,  I  believe  that  I  should  be  almost  happy  in 
the  midst  of  misery.  I  should  trust  in  your  word, 
and  should  hope  in  the  future ;  I  should  have 
courage  like  yours, —  I  should,  indeed!  But  it  is 
not  love;  you  have  often  told  me  so,  and  I  have 
observed  it  in  your  quiet  ways  with  me." 

"  So  you  think  it  is  not  love,"  said  little  Fadette ; 
"  you  are  quite  sure  of  it?  " 

As  she  still  looked  at  him,  the  tears  filled  her 
eyes  and  rolled  down  over  her  cheeks,  and  she 
smiled  a  very  strange  smile. 

"  O  my  God  !  my  God  !  "  cried  Landry,  taking 
her  into  his  arms,  "  if  I  should  be  mistaken  !  " 

"  I  know  that  you  are  mistaken,  indeed,"  an- 
swered little  Fadette,  smiling  and  crying  at  the 
same  time.  u  I  know  that  since  she  was  thirteen 
227 


FADETTE 

years  old,  the  poor  Cricket  has  singled  out  Landry, 
and  has  never  thought  of  anybody  else.  I  know 
that  when  she  followed  him  through  the  fields  and 
along  the  roads,  pursuing  him  with  nonsense  and 
raillery  in  order  to  oblige  him  to  pay  attention  to 
her,  she  did  not  know  what  she  was  doing,  or 
what  it  was  that  attracted  her  toward  him.  I  know 
that  when  she  set  out  one  day  in  search  of  Sylvinet, 
because  of  Landry's  anxiety,  and  found  him  on  the 
river's  brink  absorbed  in  thought,  and  holding  a  lit- 
tle lamb  on  his  knees,  she  tried  a  little  witchcraft  on 
Landry  so  that  Landry  should  be  forced  into  owing 
her  gratitude.  I  know  that  when  she  insulted  him 
at  the  ford  of  the  Roulettes,  it  was  because  she  felt 
vexed  and  grieved  that  he  had  never  spoken  to  her 
since.  I  know  that  when  she  wanted  to  dance 
with  him,  it  was  because  she  was  wild  about  him, 
and  hoped  to  please  him  by  her  graceful  dancing. 
1  know  that  when  she  wept  in  the  Chaumois  road, 
it  was  out  of  repentance  and  sorrow  for  having 
caused  him  pain.  I  know  very  well,  too,  that  when 
he  wanted  to  kiss  her  and  she  forbade  him,  when  he 
spoke  to  her  of  love  and  she  answered  him  coolly, 
it  was  because  she  feared  to  lose  his  love  by  grant- 
ing his  desire  too  quickly.  In  short,  I  know  that 
228 


FADETTE 

if  she  breaks  her  heart  by  going  away,  it  is  because 
she  hopes  to  come  back  worthy  of  him  in  every- 
body's opinion,  and  to  become  his  wife  without 
bringing  his  family  to  humiliation  and  distress." 
This  time  Landry  thought  that  he  would  lose 
his  senses  altogether.  He  iaughed,  he  shouted, 
and  he  cried  ;  he  kissed  Fadette's  hands  and  dress, 
and  he  would  have  kissed  her  feet  had  she  allowed 
him  ;  but  she  raised  him  up  and  gave  him  a  true- 
love  kiss  which  nearly  brought  him  to  his  death, 
for  it  was  the  first  he  had  received  from  her  or 
from  any  other  girl  ;  and  then,  as  he  sank  half 
fainting  on  the  side  of  the  road,  she  picked  up  her 
bundle  in  blushing  confusion  and  ran  off,  forbidding 
him  to  follow  her,  and  swearing  that  she  would 
come  back  again. 


x5*  22Q 


CHAPTER    XXIX 


LANDRY  submitted,  and  returned  to  the  vintage, 
_>  surprised  not  to  be  as  unhappy  as  he  had  ex- 
pected ;  for  it  is  sweet  to  know  that  one  is  loved, 
and  faith  is  great  where  love  is  great.  He  was  so 
much  amazed  and  so  happy  that  he  could  not  help 
speaking  of  it  to  Cadet  Caillaud,  who  wondered, 
too,  and  admired  little  Fadette  for  her  wisdom  in 
avoiding  any  weakness  or  imprudence  all  the  time 
she  had  loved  Landry  and  had  been  loved  by  him. 
"  I  am  glad  to  see,"  said  he,  "that  this  girl  has 
so  many  good  qualities ;  for  I  myself  have  never 
thought  ill  of  her,  and  I  am  even  willing  to  acknow- 
ledge that  if  she  had  turned  her  attention  toward 
me,  I  should  have  liked  her.  She  has  always 
seemed  to  me  pretty,  rather  than  ugly,  on  account 
of  her  eyes  ;  and,  for  some  time  past,  whenever 
she  tried  to  please,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  she  be- 
came more  attractive  every  day.  But  she  loved  no- 
230 


FADETTE 

body  but  you,  Landry,  and  was  content  not  to  be 
displeasing  to  others;  she  sought  no  approval  but 
yours,  and  I  assure  you  that  is  the  kind  of  woman 
1  admire.  Besides,  I  have  known  her  from  a  child, 
and  I  have  always  believed  her  to  have  a  good 
heart  ;  and  if  everybody  were  asked  to  say  truly 
and  conscientiously  what  they  thought  of  her,  they 
would  be  obliged  to  testify  in  her  favor;  but  it  is 
the  way  of  the  world,  that  if  two  or  three  people 
attack  some  one,  all  the  rest  join  in  the  pursuit, 
throw  stones,  and  add  to  the  slander  without  know- 
ing why,  just  as  if  it  were  for  the  pleasure  of 
crushing  a  defenseless  person." 

Landry  was  much  relieved  to  hear  Cadet  Caillaud 
talk  thus,  and  from  that  day  on  he  became  very 
intimate  with  him,  and  found  some  consolation  in 
confiding  his  sorrows  in  him.  He  even  said  to 
him,  one  day  : 

"Think  no  more  of  Madelon,  dear  Cadet;  she 
has  given  us  both  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  You  are 
no  older  than  I,  and  you  need  be  in  no  hurry  to 
marry.  I  have  a  little  sister,  Nanette,  a  sweet  girl, 
as  pretty  as  a  picture,  and  well  brought  up,  and 
she  will  soon  be  sixteen.  Come  and  see  us  a  little 
oftener,  and  when  you  know  our  Nanette  better, 
231 


k/ 


FADETTE 

• 

you  will  think  it  a  good  idea  to  become  my 
brother-in-law." 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  am  not  going  to  refuse," 
answered  Cadet ;  "  and  if  the  girl  is  not  betrothed 
to  anybody  else,  I  shall  call  at  your  house  every 
Sunday." 

The  evening  after  Fanchon  Fadet's  departure, 
Landry  went  to  see  his  father,  to  tell  him  of  the 
honest  conduct  of  the  girl  whom  Father  Barbeau 
had  so  misjudged ;  and  he  offered  him  at  the  same 
time  his  submission  for  the  present,  while  making 
every  reservation  for  the  future.  His  heart  swelled 
as  he  passed  by  Mother  Fadet's  house  ;  but  he  called 
all  his  courage  to  his  aid,  remembering  that  if 
Fanchon  had  not  gone  away,  he  might  perhaps 
have  waited  long  for  his  present  happiness  in 
knowing  that  she  loved  him.  He  saw,  too,  Mother 
Fanchette,  Fadette's  cousin  and  godmother,  who 
had  come  to  take  care  of  the  old  woman  and  the 
little  boy  in  her  place.  She  was  seated  in  front  of 
the  door,  with  the  Grasshopper  on  her  knees. 
Poor  Jeanet  was  crying,  and  refused  to  go  to  bed, 
because  he  said  that  Fanchon  had  not  as  yet  come 
back,  and  it  was  she  who  always  heard  him  say 
his  prayers  and  put  him  to  bed.  Mother  Fanchette 
232 


FADETTE 

did  her  best  to  soothe  him,  and  Landry  was  happy 
to  hear  her  speak  to  the  child  so  sweetly  and 
kindly.  As  soon  as  the  Grasshopper  caught  sight 
of  Landry,  he  escaped  from  Mother  Fanchette's 
hands,  though  she  held  him  tight,  and  rushed  to 
throw  himself  in  the  twin's  way  with  many  kisses 
and  questions,  and  entreaties  to  him  to  bring  back 
his  Fanchon.  Landry  took  him  in  his  arms,  and, 
shedding  tears  himself,  did  his  best  to  console  him. 
He  wanted  to  give  him  a  fine  bunch  of  grapes 
which  he  was  carrying  in  a  little  basket  from 
Mother  Caillaud  to  Mother  Barbeau  ;  but  Jeanet, 
who  was  ordinarily  somewhat  greedy,  was  unwill- 
ing to  accept  anything  unless  Landry  promised  to 
go  to  look  up  his  Fanchon.  So  Landry  sighed  and 
gave  his  promise,  for  the  child  would  never  have  sub- 
mitted otherwise  to  Mother  Fanchette's  authority. 

Father  Barbeau  had  not  expected  such  great  reso- 
lution from  little  Fadette.  He  was  pleased ;  but 
he  felt  a  pang  of  regret  for  what  he  had  done,  as 
he  was  a  just  and  kind-hearted  man. 

"I  am  sorry,  Landry,"  said  he,  "  that  you  did 
not  have  the  courage  to  give  up  going  to  see  her. 
If  you  had  done  your  duty  you  would  not  have 
been  the  cause  of  her  going  away.     Heaven  grant 

233 


FADETTE 

that  the  child  may  thrive  in  her  new  home,  and 
that  her  grandmother  and  little  brother  may  not 
suffer  from  her  absence;  for  though  many  people 
speak  ill  of  her,  others  again  take  her  part,  and 
have  assured  me  that  she  was  good  and  useful  in 
her  family.  If  the  evil  tales  I  have  heard  of  her 
are  false,  we  shall  soon  know  for  certain,  and  shall 
clear  her  as  behooves  us.  If,  unhappily,  they 
should  turn  out  to  be  true,  and  you,  Landry,  are 
the  guilty  one,  we  shall  nevertheless  come  to  her 
assistance,  and  shall  not  let  her  fall  into  poverty. 
All  that  I  exact  of  you,  Landry,  is  that  you  shall 
never  marry  her." 

11  Father,"  said  Landry,  "  you  and  I  see  this 
thing  in  a  different  light.  If  I  were  guilty  of  what 
you  think,  I  should,  on  the  contrary,  ask  you  to 
give  me  your  permission  to  marry  her.  But  as 
little  Fadette  is  as  innocent  as  my  sister  Nanette,  I 
only  ask  of  you  now  to  forgive  the  annoyance  I 
have  caused  you.  We  shall  speak  of  her  later,  as 
you  have  promised  me." 

Father  Barbeau  was  obliged  to  accept  these  con- 
ditions, and  to  renounce  any  further  insistance.    He 
was  too  prudent  to  attempt  to  hurry  matters,  and 
had  to  be  satisfied  with  what  he  had  obtained. 
234 


FADETTE 

From  that  time  Fadette  was  no  more  spoken  of  at 
the  Twinnery.  They  even  avoidedall  mention  of  her 
name,  for  Landry  turned  red  and  then  pale  when- 
ever it  escaped  from  anybody  in  his  presence,  and 
it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  remembered  her  as  at 
first. 


235 


CHAPTER  XXX 

AT  first  Sylvinet  felt  a  selfish  pleasure  in  learn- 
L  ing  that  Fadette  had  gone  away,  and  he 
flattered  himself  that  in  the  future  his  twin  would 
be  devoted  to  him  alone,  and  would  leave  him  for 
nobody  else.  But  it  was  not  so.  It  is  true  that 
Landry  loved  Sylvinet  better  than  anybody  in  the 
world  after  little  Fadette  ;  but  he  could  not  long 
be  happy  in  his  society,  because  Sylvinet  was  un- 
willing to  give  up  his  aversion  to  Fanchon.  As 
soon  as  Landry  tried  to  speak  to  him  of  her,  and 
to  make  him  share  in  her  interests,  Sylvinet  be- 
came distressed,  and  reproached  him  for  persisting 
in  an  attachment  so  disagreeable  to  their  parents 
and  so  vexatious  to  himself.  After  that,  Landry 
spoke  no  more  to  him  of  her  ;  but  as  he  could  not 
live  without  speaking  of  her,  he  divided  his  time 
between  Cadet  Caillaud  and  little  Jeanet.  He  took 
the  child  out  walking  with  him,  heard  him  repeat 
236 


FADETTE 

his  catechism,  and  taught  and  cheered  him  as  best 
he  could;  and  when  they  were  seen  together,  people 
would  have  jeered  at  him  if  they  had  dared.  Lan- 
dry never  allowed  himself  to  be  ridiculed  on  any 
subject,  or  he  would  have  been  proud  rather  than 
ashamed  to  show  his  affection  for  Fanchon  Fadet's 
brother ;  and  it  was  in  this  way  that  he  protested 
against  the  sayings  of  those  who  declared  that  his 
father's  wise  influence  1  ad  soon  put  an  end  to  his 
love-affair. 

Sylvinet  found  that  his  brother  did  not  return 
to  him  as  much  as  he  had  expected,  and  was  con- 
strained to  direct  his  jealousy  toward  little  Jeanet 
and  Cadet  Caillaud  ;  he  saw,  too,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  his  little  sister  Nanette,  who  until  then  had 
cheered  and  gladdened  him  by  her  tender  services 
and  caressing  attentions,  began  to  take  pleasure  in 
the  society  of  the  same  Cadet  Caillaud,  whose  attach- 
ment was  openly  approved  by  both  families.  In 
short,  poor  Sylvinet,  whose  passion  it  was  to  pos- 
sess the  undivided  affection  of  those  whom  he 
loved,  fell  into  a  singular  melancholy  and  mortal 
languor,  and  his  mind  became  so  darkened  that  no 
one  knew  what  to  do  to  please  him.  He  never 
laughed  any  more;  he  found  enjoyment  in  nothing, 
237 


FADETTE 

and  could  scarcely  work,  for  he  grew  continually 
weaker,  and  pined  away.  At  last  they  feared  for  * 
his  life,  as  he  was  scarcely  ever  without  fever ;  and 
whenever  he  suffered  a  little  more  than  usual  from 
it,  he  spoke  unreasonably,  and  cruelly  wounded  the 
hearts  of  his  parents.  He  declared  that  nobody 
loved  him, —  he  who  had  been  more  petted  and 
spoiled  than  anybody  in  the  family.  He  wished 
for  death,  saying  that  he  was  good  for  nothing; 
that  his  friends  were  kind  to  him  out  of  pity  for 
his  sad  condition,  but  that  he  was  a  burden  to  his 
parents,  and  it  would  be  a  mercy  if  God  should  rid 
them  of  him. 

Sometimes  Father  Barbeau  blamed  the  boy  se- 
verely when  he  heard  these  unchristian  words,  but 
nothing  good  came  of  it.  At  other  times  Father 
Barbeau  entreated  him  with  tears  to  believe  in  his 
affection.  This  was  still  worse :  Sylvinet  wept, 
repented,  and  asked  forgiveness  of  his  father,  his 
mother,  his  twin,  and  all  his  family ;  and  the 
fever  always  came  back  more  fiercely  after  he  had 
given  free  vent  to  the  morbid  sensibility  of  his 
sick  heart. 

They  consulted  new  doctors,  who  did  not  give 
much  advice,  but  who  thought,  as  could  be  easily 
238 


FADETTE 

gathered  from  their  expression,  that  the  whole  evil 
arose  from  the  boys  being  twins,  and  that  one  or 
the  other,  and  consequently  the  weaker  one,  must 
die. 

They  also  consulted  the  nurse  of  Clavieres,  the 
most  learned  woman  in  the  country  after  Mother 
Sagette,  who  was  dead,  and  Mother  Fadet,  who  was 
beginning  to  fall  into  her  dotage.  This  skilful 
woman  said  in  answer  to  Mother  Barbeau  : 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  which  can  save  your 
son,  and  that  is  that  he  should  care  for  women." 

"  And  he  cannot  endure  the  sight  of  them,"  said 
Mother  Barbeau  ;  "  there  never  was  another  boy 
so  retiring  and  so  disdainful;  and  since  his  twin 
fell  in  love,  he  has  done  nothing  but  speak  ill  of 
all  the  girls  of  our  acquaintance.  He  abuses  them 
all,  because  one  of  them,  and  unfortunately  not 
the  best,  has,  as  he  says,  stolen  from  him  the 
heart  of  his  twin." 

"Well,"  said  the  nurse,  who  had  great  insight 
into  all  maladies  of  mind  and  body,  "  the  day  your 
son  Sylvinet  loves  a  woman,  he  will  love  her  still 
more  madly  than  he  loves  his  brother.     I  tell  you 

this  beforehand.     He  has  an  excess  of  love  in  his 

— 

heart,  and  because  he  has  always  directed  it  to- 
239 


FADETTE 

ward  his  twin,  he  has  almost  forgotten  his  sex ; 
and  thus  he  has  sinned  against  that  law  of  God 
which  decrees  that  a  man  shall  cherish  a  woman 
above  father  or  mother,  sister  or  brother.  But 
take  comfort ;  it  is  not  possible  that  nature  should 
not  dictate  to  him  in  this,  however  behindhand 
he  may  be  ;  and  take  care  that  you  do  not  hesitate 
to  give  him  in  marriage  the  woman  he  loves, 
whether  she  be  poor,  or  ugly,  or  disagreeable  ;  for 
it  is  evident  that  he  will  never  love  more  than 
one  in  his  life.  His  heart  is  too  tenacious  for  that ; 
and  if  a  miracle  is  required  to  separate  him  from 
his  twin,  a  still  greater  one  would  be  necessary  to 
separate  him  from  the  woman  whom  he  preferred 
to  him." 

The  nurse's  advice  commended  itself  to  Father 
Barbeau,  and  he  attempted  to  send  Sylvinet  to  visit 
at  those  houses  where  there  were  good  and  pretty 
young  girls.  But  although  Sylvinet  was  both  good- 
looking  and  well-mannered,  his  melancholy  and 
indifferent  air  was  displeasing  to  the  girls.  They 
made  no  advances  toward  him,  and  he  was  so  timid 
that  he  stood  in  awe  of  them,  and  therefore  ima- 
gined that  he  detested  them. 

Father  Caillaud,  who  was  a  great  friend  and  one 
240 


FADETTE 

of  the  best  advisers  of  the  family,  then  gave  other 
counsel. 

"I  have  always  told  you,"  said  he,  "that 
absence  was  the  best  remedy.  Look  at  Landry ! 
He  was  crazy  about  little  Fadette,  and  yet  now 
that  she  has  gone  away,  he  has  lost  neither  his 
mind  nor  his  health,  and  even  seems  happier  than 
he  was ;  for  we  used  to  notice  that  he  was  melan- 
choly occasionally,  though  we  could  not  find  out 
the  cause.  Now  he  is  entirely  sensible  and  re- 
signed. It  would  be  the  same  with  Sylvinet,  if 
he  should  not  see  his  brother  for  five  or  six  months. 
I  am  going  to  tell  you  how  to  separate  them  quietly. 
My  farm  of  the  Priche  is  doing  well ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  some  property  I  have  which  lies  over  to- 
ward Arton,  is  in  a  very  bad  condition,  because  my 
farmer  has  been  ill  for  nearly  a  year  and  does  not 
recover.  I  am  unwilling  to  turn  him  out,  because 
he  is  a  truly  honest  man.  If  I  should  send  a  good 
workman  to  his  assistance,  he  would  get  better; 
for  his  illness  is  the  result  of  over-fatigue  and  too 
much  zeal.  If  you  consent,  I  shall  send  Landry  to 
spend  the  rest  of  the  season  there.  We  shall  let 
him  go  without  allowing  Sylvinet  to  find  out  that 
it  is  for  long,  but  shall  say,  on  the  contrary,  that 
16  241 


FADETTE 

he  will  be  gone  only  a  week.  After  a  week  has 
passed,  we  shall  mention  another  week,  and  so  on, 
until  Sylvinet  becomes  accustomed  to  his  brother's 
absence.  Follow  my  advice  instead  of  constantly 
gratifying  the  whims  of  a  boy  whom  you  have 
petted  too  much  and  allowed  to  take  the  upper 
hand  at  home." 

Father  Barbeau  was  inclined  to  follow  this 
counsel,  but  it  terrified  Mother  Barbeau,  and  she 
feared  that  it  would  prove  to  be  a  death-blow  to 
Sylvinet.  It  was  necessary  to  make  a  compromise, 
and  she  asked  leave  to  keep  Landry  two  weeks  at 
home  in  order  to  see  if  his  constant  presence  there 
would  cure  his  brother.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
Sylvinet  should  grow  worse,  she  promised  to  sur- 
render to  Father  Caillaud's  opinion. 

Thus  it  was  done.  Landry  gladly  agreed  to 
spend  the  required  time  at  the  Twinnery,  and  he 
came  home  under  the  pretext  that  his  father  needed 
his  assistance  in  threshing  the  rest  of  the  corn,  as 
Sylvinet  was  no  longer  able  to  work.  Landry  was 
most  tenderly  solicitous  to  please  his  brother.  He 
stayed  with  him  continually,  slept  with  him  in 
the  same  bed,  and  cared  for  him  as  if  he  were  a 
little  child.  On  the  first  day,  Sylvinet  was  very 
242 


FADETTE 

happy  ;  but  on  the  second,  he  insisted  that  Landry 
was  bored  with  him,  and  Landry  was  unable  to 
remove  the  idea  from  his  mind.  On  the  third 
day,  Sylvinet  was  furious  because  the  Grasshopper 
came  to  see  Landry,  and  Landry  had  not  the  heart 
to  send  him  away.  At  last,  at  the  end  of  a  week, 
it  was  necessary  to  make  a  change ;  for  Sylvinet 
became  more  and  more  unjust  and  exacting,  and 
was  jealous  of  his  own  shadow.  Then  they 
thought  of  putting  Father  Caillaud's  plan  into  ex- 
ecution ;  and  though  Landry  dearly  loved  his 
village,  his  work,  his  family,  and  his  masters, 
and  was  not  at  all  anxious  to  go  to  live  among 
strangers  at  Arton,  he  was  willing  to  submit  to  all 
that  was  advised  in  the  interest  of  his  brother. 


243 


CHAPTER   XXXI 


THIS  time  Sylvinet  nearly  died  the  first  day; 
but  the  next  day  he  was  calmer,  and  on  the 
third  the  fever  left  him.  He  became  first  resigned, 
and  then  resolute ;  and  at  the  end  of  a  week,  his 
friends  recognized  that  his  brother's  absence  did 
more  for  him  than  his  presence.  In  his  jealous 
meditations  he  discovered  a  motive  for  being  al- 
most pleased  with  Landry's  departure.  "At  least," 
said  he,  "he  knows  nobody  in  the  place  where  he 
is  going,  and  he  will  not  make  new  acquaintances 
immediately.  He  will  find  it  dull,  and  will  think 
of  me  and  wish  for  me.  When  he  comes  back,  he 
will  be  fonder  of  me." 

Landry  had  been  absent  about  three  months,  and 
it  was  about  a  year  since  little  Fadette  had  left  the 
country,  when  she  came  back  suddenly,  because 
her  grandmother  had  been  struck  with  paralysis. 
She  nursed  her  grandmother  with  great  zeal  and 
244 


FADETTE 

affection ;  but  old  age  is  the  worst  of  all  dis- 
eases, and  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight,  Mother  Fa- 
det  involuntarily  gave  up  the  ghost.  Three  days 
afterward,  little  Fadette  accompanied  the  body  of 
the  poor  old  woman  to  the  cemetery;  and  then, 
after  she  had  set  the  house  in  order,  had  undressed 
her  brother  and  put  him  to  bed,  and  had  kissed  her 
kind  godmother,  who  had  withdrawn  to  sleep  in 
the  other  room,  she  sat  down  very  sadly  in  front 
of  the  small  fire  that  gave  but  little  light,  and 
listened  to  the  song  of  the  cricket  on  the  hearth, 
which  seemed  to  say  to  her : 

Cricket,  Cricket,  it  grows  late, 
And  every  fairy  has  her  mate. 

The  rain  and  sleet  were  falling  and  beating 
against  the  windows,  and  Fanchon  was  thinking 
of  her  lover,  when  somebody  knocked  at  the  door, 
and  a  voice  said  : 

"  Fanchon  Fadet,  are  you  there,  and  do  you 
know  who  I  am?" 

She  was  not  slow  to  open,  and  great  was  her 
joy  in  being  clasped  to  Landry's  heart.  Landry 
had  heard  of  the  grandmother's  illness  and  of 
Fanchon's  return.     He  had  been   unable  to  resist 

16*  245 


FADETTE 

his  desire  to  see  her,  and  he  came  at  nightfall,  to 
leave  at  dawn.  They  spent  the  whole  night  talk- 
ing at  the  fireside,  but  very  quietly  and  seriously ; 
for  little  Fadette  reminded  Landry  that  the  bed  on 
which  her  grandmother  had  died  was  scarcely  cold, 
and  it  was  neither  the  time  nor  the  place  to  forget 
themselves  in  their  own  joy.  Still,  in  spite  of  their 
good  resolutions,  they  were  very  happy  to  be  to- 
gether, and  to  find  that  they  loved  each  other  more 
than  ever  before. 

As  day  broke,  however,  Landry  began  to  lose 
courage,  and  implored  Fanchon  to  hide  him  in  her 
attic  so  that  he  could  see  her  again  the  next  night. 
But,  as  usual,  she  brought  him  to  his  senses,  and 
made  him  reflect  that  they  were  not  to  be  long 
separated ;  for  she  had  decided  to  remain  at  home. 

"  I  have  reasons  for  it,"  said  she,  "  which  you 
shall  know  later,  and  which  shall  not  stand  in  the 
way  of  our  hope  of  marrying.  Go  back  and  finish 
the  work  with  which  your  master  has  intrusted 
you,  since,  as  I  nave  heard  from  my  godmother,  it 
is  necessary  for  your  brother's  recovery  that  he 
should  not  see  you  for  some  time  to  come." 

"  That  is  the  only  reason  which  can  induce  me 
to  leave  you,"  answered  Landry;  "for  my  poor 
246 


FADETTE 

twin  has  caused  me  a  great  deal  of  pain,  and  I 
fear  that  I  have  still  more  to  suffer  on  his  account. 
You  know  so  much,  Fanchonette,  you  might  find 
some  means  of  curing  him." 

"I  know  of  none  but  of  making  him  listen  to 
reason,"  answered  she  ;  "  for  it  is  his  mind  which 
affects  his  body,  and  whoever  could  cure  one  would 
cure  the  other.  But  his  aversion  to  me  is  so  great 
that  I  shall  never  have  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
to  him  and  helping  him." 

11  But  you  are  so  clever,  Fadette  ;  you  are  so  elo- 
quent, and  have  such  a  gift  of  persuasion  whenever 
you  choose  to  take  the  trouble,  that  if  you  talked 
with  him  for  an  hour  only,  he  would  feel  the  effect 
of  it.  Try,  I  entreat  you.  Do  not  be  discouraged 
because  of  his  pride  and  ill-humor.  Oblige  him  to 
listen  to  you.  Make  this  little  effort  for  my  sake, 
Fanchon,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  success  of  our 
love  ;  for  my  brother's  opposition  is  not  the  small- 
est of  the  obstacles  which  lie  in  our  way." 

Fanchon  promised ;  and  they  parted  after  repeat- 
ing more  than  a  hundred  times  that  they  loved  and 
should  always  love  each  other. 


247 


CHAPTER    XXXII 


NOBODY  in  the  country  knew  that  Landry 
had  come  back.  If  Sylvinet  had  learned  it 
by  any  chance,  he  would  certainly  have  had  an- 
other attack  of  illness,  for  he  could  never  have  for- 
given his  brother  for  having  come  to  see  Fadette 
and  not  himself. 

Two  days  afterward,  little  Fadette  dressed  her- 
self very  neatly ;  for  she  was  no  longer  without  a 
penny,  and  her  mourning  was  of  nice  fine  serge. 
She  walked  through  the  village  of  Cosse,  and  as 
she  had  grown  a  great  deal  taller,  those  who  saw  her 
pass  did  not  recognize  her  at  first.  She  had  become 
much  prettier  in  town  ;  as  she  had  been  better 
lodged  and  fed,  her  complexion  had  improved, 
and  she  had  gained  the  plumpness  which  be- 
longed to  her  age;  and  now  she  could  no  longer 
be  taken  for  a  boy  in  disguise,  for  her  figure  was 
graceful  and  pleasant  to  look  upon.  Love  and 
248 


FADETTE 

happiness  had  lent  to  her  face  and  person  that  mys- 
terious charm  which  is  so  marked  and  yet  so  inex- 
plicable. In  short,  though  she  was  not  the  prettiest 
girl  in  the  world,  as  Landry  imagined,  she  was  the 
comeliest,  the  best  made,  the  freshest,  and  perhaps 
the  most  desirable  in  the  neighborhood. 

She  carried  a  basket  on  her  arm,  and  stopped  at 
the  Twinnery,  where  she  asked  to  speak  with 
Father  Barbeau.  Sylvinet  was  the  first  to  see  her, 
and  he  turned  away  from  her,  so  great  was  his 
displeasure  at  meeting  her.  But  she  asked  him 
where  his  father  was  with  so  much  civility  that  he 
was  forced  to  answer  her,  and  to  show  her  the  way 
to  the  barn,  where  Father  Barbeau  was  busy  with 
his  carpentry.  Little  Fadette  begged  Father  Barbeau 
to  take  her  to  a  place  where  she  could  speak  with 
him  in  private,  and  then  he  shut  the  door  of  the 
barn,  and  said  she  could  tell  him  everything  she 
wished. 

Little  Fadette  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  dis- 
heartened by  Father  Barbeau's  chilling  manner. 
She  sat  down  on  one  bundle  of  straw,  and  he  on 
another,  and  then  she  began  : 

"Though  my  grandmother,  who  is  now  dead, 
had  a  grudge  against  you,  and  you  have  a  grudge 
249 


FADETTE 

against  me,  it  is  no  less  true  that  I  know  you  for 
the  most  just  and  trustworthy  man  in  the  country. 
There  is  but  one  voice  on  the  subject,  and  my 
grandmother  herself,  though  she  blamed  your  pride, 
did  justice  to  you  in  this  respect.  Moreover,  as 
you  know,  I  have  had  a  long  acquaintance  with 
your  son  Landry.  He  has  often  spoken  to  me 
of  you,  and  I  know  your  character  and  worth 
through  him  better  than  through  others.  That  is 
why  I  have  come  to  ask  a  favor  of  you,  and  to  in- 
trust you  with  my  confidence." 

"  Speak,  Fadette,"  answered  Father  Barbeau.  "  I 
have  never  refused  my  assistance  to  anybody,  and 
you  may  rely  upon  me,  unless  you  have  something 
to  ask  which  my  conscience  forbids." 

"  This  is  what  I  have  come  for,"  said  little  Fa- 
dette, raising  her  basket  and  placing  it  at  Father 
Barbeau's  feet.  "  My  grandmother  earned  during 
her  lifetime,  by  giving  consultations  and  selling 
remedies,  more  money  than  anybody  was  aware 
of;  as  she  spent  hardly  anything,  and  invested  no- 
thing, no  one  could  know  how  much  she  had  in 
an  old  hole  in  her  cellar.  She  often  showed  me 
the  spot,  and  said  :  c  When  I  am  dead,  you  will  find 
there  all  the  money  I  shall  leave  ;  it  will  all  belong 
250 


FADETTE 

to  you  and  your  brother,  and  if  I  make  you  suffer 
a  few  privations  now,  it  is  that  you  may  one  day 
be  the  richer.  But  do  not  let  the  lawyers  get  hold 
of  it,  for  they  will  eat  it  all  up  in  costs.  Keep  it 
when  it  comes  into  your  possession,  and  hide  it  all 
your  life,  so  that  you  may  use  it  when  you  are 
old,  and  may  never  fall  into  want.' 

"  After  my  poor  grandmother  was  buried,  I 
obeyed  her  injunctions  ;  I  took  the  key  of  the  cel- 
lar and  tore  down  the  bricks  of  the  wall  in  the 
place  she  had  shown  me.  1  found  there  what  I 
bring  you  in  this  basket,  Father  Barbeau,  and  beg 
you  to  invest  it  for  me  as  you  shall  think  best, 
after  fulfilling  the  requirements  of  the  law,  of 
which  I  am  so  ignorant,  and  preserving  me  from 
the  great  expenses  which  I  dread." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  confidence, 
Fadette,"  said  Father  Barbeau,  without  opening  the 
basket,  although  he  felt  rather  curious;  "but  I 
have  no  right  to  receive  your  money  and  to  as- 
sume the  charge  of  your  affairs.  I  am  not  your 
guardian.    Surely  your  grandmother  made  a  will?" 

"She  made  no  will,  and  the  guardian  appointed 
me  by  law  is  my  mother.  Now,  you  know  that 
for  a  long  time  I  have  had  no  news  of  her,  and 
251 


FADETTE 

that  I  do  not  know  whether  she  is  alive  or  dead, 
poor  soul  !  After  her,  I  have  no  other  relation  ex- 
cept my  godmother  Fanchette,  who  is  a  good,  hon- 
est woman,  but  quite  incapable  of  managing  my 
property,  or  even  keeping  it  safely  locked  up. 
She  could  not  help  talking  of  it  and  showing  it 
to  everybody,  and  I  should  be  afraid  either  of  her 
investing  it  foolishly,  or  of  her  allowing  it  to  be 
handled  by  so  many  officious  persons  that  it  might 
diminish  without  her  knowledge  ;  for  my  poor 
dear  godmother  has  not  the  slightest  idea  how  to 
keep  accounts." 

"  Is  it  then  considerable?"  asked  Father  Ban 
beau,  whose  eyes  were  fixed,  in  spite  of  himself, 
on  the  cover  of  the  basket ;  and  he  lifted  it  by 
the  handle  to  ascertain  its  weight.  He  found  it 
so  heavy  that  he  was  surprised. 

"  If  it  is  copper  coin,"  said  he,  "  a  small  sum 
would  be  enough  to  load  a  horse." 

Little  Fadette,  who  had  a  fine  sense  of  humor, 
was  much  amused  by  his  desire  to  examine  the 
basket.  She  made  a  motion  to  open  it,  but  Father 
Barbeau  thought  it  beneath  his  dignity  to  let  her 
do  it. 

"  It  is  no  concern  of  mine,"  said  he;  "and 
252 


FADETTE 

since   I   cannot  take    your   money   into    my  safe- 
keeping, I  ought  not  to  know  your  affairs." 

"  But  you  must  at  least  do  me  this  little  service, 
Father  Barbeau,"  said  Fadette.  "  I  am  not  much 
wiser  than  my  godmother  about  counting  above 
a  hundred.  Then,  too,  I  do  not  know  the  value 
of  all  old  and  new  coins,  and  I  can  only  trust  you 
to  tell  me  whether  I  am  poor  or  rich,  and  to  find 
out  exactly  the  amount  of  my  possessions." 

"Let  us  see,"  said  Father  Barbeau,  who  could 
hold  out  no  longer;  "you  are  not  asking  a  very 
great  favor  of  me,  and  I  must  not  refuse  it." 

Then  little  Fadette  raised  quickly  the  two  covers 
of  the  basket,  and  drew  out  two  large  bags,  each 
of  which  contained  crowns  to  the  amount  of  two 
thousand  francs. 

"  Well !  that  is  very  nice,",  said  Father  Barbeau; 
"there  is  a  little  dowry  which  will  bring  you  more 
than  one  suitor." 

"That  is  not  all,"  said  little  Fadette  ;  "  there  is 
still  a  little  sum  at  the  bottom  of  the  basket,  though 
I  do  not  know  how  much  it  is." 

She  drew  out  a  purse  of  eelskin,  and  emptied  it 
into  Father  Barbeau's  hat.    There  were  in  it  a  hun- 
dred gold  coins  of  an  ancient  stamp,  which  made 
=  53 


FADETTE 

the  good  man  open  his  eyes;  after  he  had  counted 
these  and  replaced  them  in  the  purse,  she  took  out  a 
second,  the  contents  of  which  were  the  same ;  and 
then  a  third,  and  then  a  fourth  ;  and  finally  it  was 
seen  that  the  basket  held  in  gold  and  silver  and 
small  coin  not  much  less  than  forty  thousand  francs. 

That  was  about  one  third  more  than  the  value 
of  all  the  buildings  Father  Barbeau  owned,  and,  as 
country  people  never  realize  ready  money,  he  had 
never  seen  so  much  gold  at  once  in  his  life  before. 

Honest  and  disinterested  as  a  peasant  may  be, 
it  cannot  be  said  that  the  sight  of  money  is  painful 
to  him  ;  and,  for  the  moment,  drops  of  perspiration 
started  to  Father  Barbeau's  forehead.  After  he  had 
counted  everything,  he  said  : 

"  You  are  only  twenty-two  crowns  short  of 
forty  thousand  francs,  and  I  may  say  that  your 
share  of  the  inheritance  is  two  thousand  pistoles  in 
ready  money  ;  so  you  are  the  best  match  in  the 
country,  little  Fadette,  and  your  brother  the  Grass- 
hopper can  be  sickly  and  lame  all  his  life :  he  can 
go  in  a  carriage  to  look  after  his  property.  You 
may  be  content,  for  you  have  only  to  say  that  you 
are  rich,  and  let  it  be  generally  known,  if  you 
want  to  find  a  handsome  husband." 
254 


FADETTE 

"I  am  in  no  hurry,"  said  little  Fadette ;  u  and  I 
ask  you,  on  the  contrary,  to  keep  the  secret  of  my 
wealth,  Father  Barbeau.  As  I  am  so  ugly,  it  is  my 
fancy  to  be  married,  not  for  my  money,  but  for 
my  good  heart  and  my  fair  name;  and  as  my  rep- 
utation in  this  part  of  the  country  is  bad,  I  should 
like  to  pass  some  time  here  to  let  people  see  that  I 
do  not  deserve  it." 

"  As  to  your  ugliness,  Fadette,"  said  Father  Bar- 
beau,  lifting  his  eyes,  which  had  been  till  then 
glued  to  the  top  of  the  basket,  "  I  can  tell  you  in 
good  earnest  that  you  have  got  rid  of  it  in  the  most 
astonishing  way,  and  that  you  are  so  much  im- 
proved since  your  stay  in  town  that  you  may  now 
pass  for  a  pretty  girl.  And  as  to  your  bad  name, 
if,  as  I  like  to  think,  you  do  not  deserve  it,  1  ap- 
prove your  idea  of  delaying  a  little  and  of  keeping 
the  secret  or  your  riches  ;  for  there  are  plenty  of 
men  who  would  be  so  dazzled  by  them  as  to  desire 
to  marry  you,  without  previously  feeling  for  you 
that  esteem  which  a  woman  should  require  from 
her  husband. 

"Now,  as  to  your  leaving  this  money  in  my  cus- 
tody, it  would  be  contrary  to  law,  and  might  ex- 
pose me  later  to  suspicions  and  false  charges ;  for 

255 


FADETTE 

there  are  always  plenty  of  evil  tongues  abroad.  And 
besides,  even  supposing  that  you  have  the  right  to 
dispose  of  what  belongs  to  you,  you  have  none  to 
invest  lightly  the  property  of  your  brother,  who  is 
a  minor.  All  that  I  can  do  will  be  to  ask  advice 
for  you,  without  mentioning  your  name  ;  and  then 
I  shall  let  you  know  the  best  means  of  investing 
your  mother's  inheritance  and  yours  safely  and 
correctly,  without  allowing  it  to  pass  through  the 
hands  of  pettifoggers,  which  are  not  always  to  be 
trusted.  Carry  all  this  money  home,  and  hide  it 
until  I  give  you  your  answer.  I  shall  be  at  your 
service  when  you  require  it,  to  testify  before  the 
agents  of  your  joint  heir  to  the  amount  of  the  sum 
which  we  have  just  counted,  and  the  figure  of 
which  I  am  going  to  write  down  in  the  corner  of 
my  barn,  so  that  I  may  not  forget  it." 

All  little  Fadette  wanted  was  that  Father  Barbeau 
should  know  the  whole  truth  of  the  matter.  If 
she  felt  a  little  proud  to  have  him  find  out  that 
she  was  rich,  it  was  so  that  he  should  no  longer 
be  able  to  accuse  her  of  imposing  upon  Landry. 


256 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 


WHEN  Father  Barbeau  saw  how  prudent  and 
clever  she  was,  he  was  less  in  haste  to  de- 
posit and  invest  her  money  for  her  than  to  find  out 
concerning  the  reputation  she  had  acquired  at  Cha- 
teau-Meillant,  where  she  had  spent  the  year.  For  if 
her  large  dowry  tempted  him  to  pass  over  her  un- 
fortunate parentage,  it  could  never  induce  him  to 
be  careless  about  the  honor  of  the  girl  whom  he 
thought  of  accepting  as  his  daughter-in-law.  So 
he  went  himself  to  Chateau-Meillant,  and  was  most 
conscientious  in  seeking  information.  He  heard 
not  only  that  little  Fadette  had  not  come  there  to 
give  birth  to  a  child,  but  that  her  conduct  there 
had  been  so  spotless  that  not  the  slightest  particle 
of  blame  could  be  attached  to  her.  She  had  lived 
with  an  elderly  nun  of  noble  family,  who  had 
taken  pleasure  in  treating  her  more  as  a  companion 
than  as  a  servant,  so  exemplary  had  she  found  her 
17  257 


FADETTE 

in  her  behavior,  her  manners,  and  her  mind.  She 
regretted  her  very  much,  and  said  that  she  was  a 
perfect  Christian,  brave,  economical,  neat,  and  pains- 
taking, and  of  so  amiable  a  disposition  that  she 
should  never  find  her  like  again.  As  this  old  lady 
was  very  well  off,  she  busied  herself  with  many 
charities,  and  little  Fadette  had  been  wonder- 
fully useful  to  her  in  nursing  the  sick  and  prepar- 
ing medicines,  and  had  learned  from  her  mistress 
several  precious  secrets  brought  from  the  convent 
before  the  Revolution. 

Father  Barbeau  was  well  pleased,  and  returned 
to  Cosse  fully  decided  to  sift  the  matter  to  the  bot- 
tom. He  called  his  family  together,  and  commis- 
sioned his  older  children,  his  brothers,  and  his  other 
relations  to  undertake  a  careful  investigation  of 
little  Fadette's  conduct  ever  since  she  had  reached 
years  of  discretion,  so  that  if  all  the  ill  said  of  her 
had  arisen  from  her  childish  folly,  he  could  afford 
to  laugh  at  it ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  anybody  could 
affirm  that  she  had  been  seen  to  commit  an  evil 
action  or  to  do  anything  indecorous,  he  was  deter- 
mined to  maintain  his  prohibition  to  Landry  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  her.  The  investigation  was 
conducted  with  all  desirable  prudence,  and  without 
258 


FADETTE 

any  mention  of  the  dowry,  for  he  had  never  spoken 
of  it,  even  to  his  wife. 

During  all  this  time  little  Fadette  lived  a  very 
retired  life  in  her  little  house,  which  she  was  un- 
willing to  change  in  any  particular,  save  that  she 
kept  it  so  clean  that  she  could  see  her  face  reflected 
in  her  shabby  furniture.  She  dressed  the  little 
Grasshopper  neatly,  and,  without  making  it  appa- 
rent, provided  him,  her  godmother,  and  herself  with 
wholesome  food,  which  soon  produced  its  effect 
upon  the  child  :  his  health  improved  to  a  remark- 
able degree,  and  he  soon  became  as  well  as  could 
be  wished.  Happiness  soon  changed  his  disposi- 
tion for  the  better,  and  as  he  was  no  longer  threat- 
ened and  scolded  by  his  grandmother,  and  met 
with  nothing  but  caresses,  affectionate  words,  and 
kind  treatment,  he  became  a  very  nice  little  boy, 
full  of  odd  and  pretty  fancies,  incapable  of  exciting 
anybody's  dislike,  in  spite  of  his  lameness  and  his 
little  snub  nose. 

The  alteration  in  Fanchon  Fadet's  appearance 
and  manners  was  so  marked  that  the  unkind  gossip 
about  her  was  forgotten,  and  more  than  one  young 
man,  on  seeing  her  pass  by  with  a  light  step  and 
graceful  carriage,  wished  that  her  mourning  were 
259 


FADETTE 

at  an  end,  so  that  he  could  pay  her  his  court,  and 
ask  her  to  dance. 

Sylvinet  Barbeau  alone  was  unwilling  to  change 
his  opinion  of  her.  He  saw,  indeed,  that  there  was 
some  plan  on  foot  concerning  her  in  the  family,  for 
Father  Barbeau  could  not  restrain  himself  from 
talking  of  her  often,  and  whenever  he  received  the 
refutation  of  some  lie  that  had  been  formerly  told 
of  her,  he  congratulated  himself  on  Landry's  ac- 
count, saying  that  he  could  not  endure  to  have  his 
son  accused  of  misleading  an  innocent  girl. 

They  spoke  also  of  Landry's  approaching  return, 
and  Father  Barbeau  was  apparently  anxious  to  ob- 
tain Father  Caillaud's  consent  to  it.  At  last  Sylvinet 
saw  that  there  would  be  no  further  opposition  to 
Landry's  love,  and  his  sorrow  returned.  Public 
opinion,  which  veers  with  every  wind,  had  been 
for  some  little  time  favorable  to  Fadette ;  nobody 
knew  that  she  was  rich,  but  she  was  liked,  and 
for  that  very  reason  she  was  the  more  disliked  by 
Sylvinet,  who  knew  her  to  be  his  rival  in  Landry's 
affection. 

From  time  to  time,  Father  Barbeau  allowed  the 
word  "  marriage"  to  escape  him,  and  said  that  his 
twins  would  soon  be  old  enough  to  think  of  it. 
260 


FADETTE 

Landry's  marriage  had  always  been  a  distressing 
idea  to  Sylvinet,  and  seemed  to  him  the  final 
decree  of  their  separation.  He  fell  ill  again  of  his 
fever,  and  his  mother  consulted  still  other  doctors. 

One  day  she  met  by  accident  Fadette's  god- 
mother, Mother  Fanchette,  who,  after  hearing  her 
anxious  lamentations,  asked  her  why  she  spent  so 
much  money,  and  went  so  far  from  home,  when 
she  had  near  at  hand  a  woman  more  skilful  in 
healing  than  all  the  others  in  the  country,  and 
who  would  not  practise  for  money,  as  her  grand- 
mother had  done,  but  only  for  the  love  of  God  and 
her  neighbor.     Then  she  named  little  Fadette. 

Mother  Barbeau  mentioned  it  to  her  husband, 
and  he  made  no  objection.  He  told  her  that 
Fadette  had  acquired  a  great  reputation  for  know- 
ledge at  Chateau-Meillant,  and  that  people  had 
come  there  from  all  sides  to  consult  her  as  well  as 
her  mistress. 

So  Mother  Barbeau  begged  Fadette  to  come  and 
help  Sylvinet,  who  was  ill  in  bed. 

Fanchon  had  more  than  once  sought  an  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  with  him,  as  she  had  promised 
Landry  to  do  so,  but  Sylvinet  had  never  given  her 
the  chance.     She  did  not  wait  to  be  asked  twice, 
J7+  261 


FADETTE 

but  went  immediately  to  see  the  poor  twin.  She 
found  him  in  a  feverish  sleep,  and  requested  the 
family  to  leave  her  alone  with  him.  As  the  women 
who  work  cures  are  in  the  habit  of  pursuing  their 
treatment  in  private,  everybody  agreed  to  go  out 
of  the  room. 

At  first  Fadette  placed  her  hand  on  that  of  the 
twin,  which  was  lying  on  the  edge  of  the  bed ; 
but  she  did  this  so  gently  that  he  took  no  notice 
of  it,  although  his  sleep  was  so  light  that  he  woke 
with  the  mere  buzzing  of  a  fly.  Sylvinet's  hand 
was  hot  as  fire,  and  it  became  still  hotter  while 
little  Fadette  held  it  in  hers.  He  showed  some 
agitation,  but  made  no  motion  to  draw  away  his 
hand.  Then  little  Fadette  laid  her  other  hand 
on  his  forehead,  as  gently  as  before,  and  he  became 
still  more  restless.  But  he  calmed  down  little  by 
little,  and  she  felt  the  hand  of  her  patient  grow- 
ing cooler  from  minute  to  minute,  and  saw  that 
his  sleep  was  as  sweet  as  that  of  a  little  child. 
She  stayed  with  him  until  he  was  about  to  wake, 
and  then  withdrew  behind  the  curtain  and  went 
out  of  the  room.  As  she  left  the  house,  she  said 
to  Mother  Barbeau  : 

"Go  to  your  boy  and  give  him  something  to 
262 


FADETTE 

eat,  for  he  has  no  more  fever;  and  be  sure,  above 
all,  not  to  speak  to  him  of  me,  if  you  want  me  to 
cure  him.  I  shall  come  back  this  evening,  at  the 
hour  you  say  his  disease  is  worse,  and  I  shall  try 
to  break  his  fever  again." 


*>} 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 


M* 


OTHER  BARBEAU  was  much  astonished  to 
find  Sylvinet  free  from  fever,  and  immedi- 
ately brought  him  food,  which  he  ate  with  some 
appetite.  As  the  fever  had  not  left  him  before  for 
six  days,  and  he  had  refused  to  take  anything,  the 
family  were  much  delighted  with  the  skill  of  little 
Fadette,  who  without  waking  him  and  by  the  sole 
virtue  of  her  spells,  as  they  thought,  had  already 
done  him  so  much  good. 

When  evening  came,  the  fever  rose  again.  Syl- 
vinet dozed,  and  dreamed  that  he  was  running 
about  the  country,  and  was  afraid  of  the  people 
round  him  when  he  woke. 

Fadette  returned,  and,  as  in  the  morning,  re- 
mained alone  with  him  for  nearly  an  hour,  using 
no  other  magic  than  that  of  holding  his  hands  and 
head  very  gently,  and  breathing  freshly  against  his 
hot  cheek. 

364 


FAOETTE 

As  in  the  morning,  she  cured  him  of  his  fever 
and  delirium  ;  and  after  she  had  gone  away,  re- 
questing that  no  one  should  speak  to  Sylvinet  of 
what  she  had  done  for  him,  they  found  him  sleep- 
ing peacefully,  without  any  flush  on  his  face,  or 
any  further  appearance  of  illness. 

I  do  not  know  where  Fadette  had  picked  up  this 
idea  She  had  tried  it  first  accidentally,  and  then 
was  encouraged  by  experience  to  repeat  it  upon 
her  little  brother  Jeanet,  whom  she  had  brought 
back  from  the  point  of  death  a  dozen  times  by 
using  no  other  remedy  than  that  of  cooling  him 
with  her  hands  and  breath,  or  warming  him  by 
the  same  means  when  the  high  fever  had  changed 
into  a  chill. 

She  imagined  that  a  person  in  good  health,  en- 
dowed with  a  certain  kind  of  temperament  and 
great  trust  in  the  goodness  of  God,  could  drive 
away  disease  by  the  power  of  love  and  will,  and 
by  the  touch  of  a  very  pure  and  very  loving  hand. 
So,  all  the  time  that  she  laid  her  hands  upon  the 
patient,  she  made  silent  prayers  to  God.  What 
she  had  done  for  her  own  little  brother,  and  was 
now  doing  for  Landry's  brother,  she  would  have 
been  unwilling  to  try  upon  anybody  who  was  less 
26s 


FADETTE 

dear  to  her,  or  in  whom  she  felt  less  interest :  for 
she  believed  that  the  first  virtue  of  this  remedy  was 
the  great  love  she  offered  up  in  her  heart  to  the 
sick  person,  without  which  God  would  give  her 
no  power  to  cure  the  ill. 

While  little  Fadette  was  charming  away  Syl- 
vinet's  fever,  she  said  in  her  prayer  to  God  the 
same  thing  she  had  said  as  she  soothed  her 
brother's  fever. 

"  O  God  !  let  my  health  pass  from  my  body  in- 
to this  suffering  body  ;  and  as  the  dear  Jesus  sacri- 
ficed his  life  to  redeem  the  souls  of  all  men,  if  it 
be  thy  will  to  deprive  me  of  life  to  give  it  to  this 
sick  person,  take  it ;  I  yield  it  willingly  in  exchange 
for  the  cure  of  him  for  whom  I  am  praying." 

Little  Fadette  had  indeed  thought  of  trying  the 
efficacy  of  this  same  prayer  at  her  grandmother's 
death-bed  ;  but  she  had  not  dared,  because  it  seemed 
to  her  that  life  was  spent  in  the  body  and  soul  of 
the  old  woman  through  the  effect  of  age  and  of 
that  law  of  nature  which  is  God's  own  will.  So 
little  Fadette,  who,  as  you  see,  put  more  piety  than 
witchcraft  into  her  charms,  feared  to  displease  him 
by  asking  something  which  he  grants  to  other 
Christians  only  by  special  miracle. 
266 


FADETTE 

Whether  the  remedy  were  intrinsically  sovereign 
or  useless,  it  is  certain  that  in  three  days  she  re- 
lieved Sylvinet  of  his  fever.  He  would  never  have 
known  the  cause  of  his  cure,  if  he  had  not  waked 
suddenly  during  her  last  visit,  and  seen  her  bend- 
ing over  him,  gently  drawing  away  her  hands 
from  his. 

At  first  he  thought  it  was  a  vision,  and  closed 
his  eyes  to  avoid  seeing  her  ;  but  afterward  he 
asked  his  mother  if  Fadette  had  not  felt  his  head 
and  his  pulse,  or  if  he  had  dreamed  it.  Mother 
Barbeau,  who  had  finally  heard  something  of  her 
husband's  projects,  and  was  anxious  for  Sylvinet  to 
recover  from  his  dislike  of  Fadette,  answered  that 
the  girl  had  really  come  for  three  days,  morning 
and  evening,  and  had  broken  his  fever  by  her 
secret  art  in  a  very  marvelous  way. 

Sylvinet  appeared  not  to  believe  it ;  he  said  that 
the  fever  had  left  him  of  its  own  accord,  and  that 
Fadette's  secrets  and  incantations  were  all  folly  and 
vanity.  He  was  so  quiet  and  comfortable  for  sev- 
eral days  that  Father  Barbeau  thought  to  profit  by 
it  by  saying  something  to  him  about  the  possibil- 
ity of  his  brother's  marriage,  without  mentioning 
the  girl  he  had  in  view. 

267 


FADETTE 

"  You  need  not  hide  the  name  of  the  girl  you 
intend  to  give  him,"  answered  Sylvinet.  "  I  know 
very  well  it  is  that  little  Fadette  who  has  charmed 
you  all." 

In  fact  Father  Barbeau's  secret  investigation  had 
turned  out  so  favorably  to  little  Fadette,  that  he 
hesitated  no  longer,  and  was  very  desirous  of  re- 
calling Landry.  He  had  nothing  now  to  dread  ex- 
cept Sylvinet's  jealousy,  and  tried  to  cure  him  of 
his  prejudice  by  telling  him  that  his  brother  could 
never  be  happy  without  little  Fadette.  Then  Syl- 
vinet answered  : 

"  Do  as  you  choose,  for  my  brother  must  be 
happy  at  all  costs." 

But  no  one  dared  take  a  step,  because  Sylvinet 
fell  back  into  his  fever  as  soon  as  he  seemed  to 
have  given  his  consent. 


268 


CHAPTER    XXXV 


FATHER  BAR  BEAU  was  afraid  that  little 
Fadette  might  cherish  a  grudge  against  him  on 
account  of  his  former  injustice,  and  that  she  might 
console  herself  for  Landry's  absence  and  think  of 
some  other  man.  When  she  came  to  the  Twinnery 
to  take  care  of  Sylvinet,  he  had  tried  to  speak  to 
her  of  Landry  ;  but  she  pretended  not  to  hear  him, 
so  that  he  was  much  embarrassed. 

At  last,  one  morning  he  made  up  his  mind  and 
went  to  see  little  Fadette. 

"  Fanchon  Fadet,"  said  he,  "I  have  come  to 
ask  a  question  of  you,  which  I  beg  you  to  answer 
truly  and  honestly.  Before  your  grandmother  died, 
had  you  any  idea  how  much  property  she  was  going 
to  leave  you?" 

"Yes,  Father  Barbeau,"  answered  little  Fadette, 
11  I  had  some  idea  of  it,  because  1  often  saw  her 
counting  out  gold  and  silver,  and  1  never  saw  her 
269 


FADETTE 

spend  anything  but  coppers ;  and  also  because  she 
often  said  to  me  when  the  other  young  people 
laughed  at  my  rags  :  *  Never  mind,  my  little  girl ; 
you  will  be  richer  than  all  of  them,  and  the  day 
will  come  when  you  can  be  dressed  in  silk  from 
head  to  foot,  if  such  is  your  pleasure.'" 

"Then,"  Father  Barbeau  went  on,  "did  you 
let  Landry  know,  and  is  it  possible  that  he  pre- 
tended to  be  in  love  with  you  on  account  of  your 
money?  " 

"As  to  that,  Father  Barbeau,"  answered  little 
Fadette,  "  as  it  was  always  my  whim  to  be  loved 
for  my  fine  eyes,  which  are  the  only  beauty  that 
has  never  been  denied  me,  I  was  not  so  stupid  as 
to  go  and  tell  Landry  that  they  were  tied  up  in 
eelskin  purses ;  and  yet  I  might  have  told  him 
without  danger  to  myself,  for  Landry  loved  me  so 
truly  and  devotedly  that  he  never  cared  to  know 
whether  I  were  rich  or  poor." 

"  And  since  the  death  of  your  grandmother,  dear 
Fanchon,"  continued  Father  Barbeau,  "can  you 
give  me  your  word  of  honor  that  Landry  has  not 
been  informed  of  the  state  of  the  case  by  you  or 
by  anybody  else  ?  " 

"  I  can,"  said  Fadette.     "  As  true  as  I  love  God, 
270 


FADETTE 

except  myself,  you  are  the  only  person  in  the  world 
who  knows  this  thing." 

"  And  do  you  think,  Fanchon,  that  Landry  has 
still  kept  his  love  for  you  ?  And  have  you  received 
any  token  of  his  good  faith  since  your  grand- 
mother died  ?  " 

"  I  have  received  the  best  of  all  tokens,"  an- 
swered she;  "for  I  confess  that  he  came  to  see 
me  three  days  after  my  grandmother's  death,  and 
that  he  swore  to  me  he  would  either  have  me  for 
his  wife  or  die  of  grief." 

"  And  what  was  your  answer,  Fadette?" 

"I  am  not  obliged  to  tell  you,  Father  Barbeau  ; 
but  I  shall  do  so  to  please  you.  I  answered  that 
it  was  not  yet  time  to  think  of  marrying,  and  that 
I  should  not  readily  accept  a  man  who  paid  me 
his  court  against  his  parents'  will." 

Little  Fadette  spoke  in  such  a  proud,  indifferent 
tone  that  Father  Barbeau  was  disturbed. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  question  you,  Fanchon  Fa- 
det,"  said  he,  u  and  I  do  not  know  whether  you 
mean  to  make  my  son  happy  or  unhappy  for  life; 
but  I  know  that  he  is  terribly  in  love  with  you, 
and  if  I  were  in  your  place,  and  had  your  desire  to 
be  loved  for  myself  alone,  I  should  say  to  myself: 
271 


FADETTE 

'Landry  Barbeau  loved  me  when  I  was  in  rags, 
when  everybody  spurned  me,  and  when  his  pa- 
rents were  so  unreasonable  as  to  think  his  love  a 
sin.  He  believed  me  beautiful  when  I  was  hope- 
lessly ugly  in  the  eyes  of  the  rest  of  the  world  ; 
he  loved  me  in  spite  of  the  troubles  in  which  his 
love  involved  him  ;  he  loved  me  in  absence  as 
much  as  when  we  were  together  ;  in  short,  he 
loved  me  so  well  that  I  cannot  mistrust  him,  and 
1  shall  never  take  another  for  my  husband.'  " 

11  I  have  thought  so  for  a  long  time,  Father  Bar- 
beau,"  answered  little  Fadette  ;  u  but  I  must  repeat 
that  it  would  bs  greatly  repugnant  to  me  to  enter 
a  family  which  blushed  to  receive  me,  and  only 
yielded  out  of  weakness  and  pity." 

"  If  that  is  all  that  hinders  you,  set  yourself  at 
ease,  Fanchon ,"  answered  Father  Barbeau  ;  "  for  Lan- 
dry's family  honors  you  and  desires  to  have  you.  Do 
not  think  that  we  have  changed  our  minds  because 
you  are  rich.  It  was  not  your  poverty  which  kept 
us  aloof,  but  the  evil  gossip  spread  abroad  concern- 
ing you.  If  it  were  well  founded,  I  should  never 
consent  to  call  you  my  daughter-in-law,  even  if  it 
were  to  save  Landry's  life.  But  I  was  determined 
to  know  the  truth  of  the  reports ;  I  went  expressly 
272 


FADETTE 

to  Chateau-Meillant ;  I  informed  myself  minutely 
both  there  and  here  concerning  you  ;  and  now  I 
know  that  people  lied  against  you,  and  that  you 
are  a  good,  honest  girl,  as  Landry  declared  with  so 
much  fire.  So,  Fanchon  Fadet,  I  come  to  ask  you 
to  marry  my  son,  and  if  you  say  yes,  he  shall  be 
here  in  a  week." 

This  overture,  which  she  had  foreseen,  made 
little  Fadette  very  happy  ;  but  she  was  unwilling 
to  make  her  joy  too  apparent,  as  she  wished  to  be 
forever  respected  by  her  husband's  family.  She 
answered  therefore  with  some  circumspection  ;  and 
then  Father  Barbeau  said : 

"I  see,  my  girl,  that  you  still  bear  a  grudge 
against  me  and  mine.  Do  not  exact  too  many 
apologies  from  a  man  of  my  age  ;  try  to  be  satisfied 
with  my  word  when  I  say  that  you  shall  be  loved 
and  esteemed  by  us  all.  Believe  in  Father  Barbeau, 
who  has  never  deceived  anybody.  Come,  will  you 
give  the  kiss  of  peace  to  the  guardian  whom  you 
yourself  selected,  or  to  the  father  who  longs  to 
adopt  you  ?  " 

Little  Fadette  could  restrain  herself  no  longer ; 
she  threw  her  arms  round  Father  Barbeau's  neck, 
and  his  old  heart  rejoiced. 
18  273 


CHAPTER    XXXVI 

THE  arrangements  were  soon  made.  The 
wedding  was  to  take  place  as  soon  as  Fan- 
chon's  mourning  was  over.  Nothing  remained 
except  to  recall  Landry  ;  but  when  Mother  Barbeau 
went  that  evening  to  see  Fanchon,  to  give  her  her 
blessing  and  embrace,  she  told  how  Sylvinet  had 
again  fallen  ill  at  the  news  of  his  brother's  ap- 
proaching marriage,  and  she  begged  a  few  days' 
grace  for  the  boy  to  recover  either  in  health  or 
spirits. 

"You  made  a  mistake,  Mother  Barbeau,"  said 
little  Fadstte,  "to  let  Sylvinet  know  it  was  not  a 
dream  when  he  saw  me  at  his  bedside,  as  he 
roused  himself  from  his  fever.  Now,  his  will  will 
thwart  mine,  and  I  shall  no  longer  have  the  same 
power  to  cure  him  while  he  is  asleep.  He  may 
resist  my  influence,  and  my  very  presence  may 
make  him   worse." 

274 


FADETTE 

"  I  cannot  believe  it,"  answered  Mother  Barbeau; 
tl  for  just  now,  as  he  felt  ill  and  went  to  bed,  he 
asked  :  '  Where  is  Fadette  ?  I  think  she  relieved 
me.  Will  she  not  come  back  any  more?'  I  told 
him  that  I  should  go  after  you,  and  he  seemed 
pleased  and  even  impatient." 

"  I  will  come,"  said  Fadette  ;  "  only  this  time  I 
must  try  another  course,  for  I  assure  you  that  the 
treatment  which  was  successful  while  he  was  un- 
aware of  my  presence  will  not  operate  any  longer." 

"  Are  not  you  going  to  take  any  drugs  or  rem- 
edies with  you?"  asked  Mother  Barbeau. 

"  No,"  said  Fadette  ;  "  it  is  not  his  body  that  is 
sick ;  I  must  deal  with  his  mind  ;  I  am  going  to 
try  to  influence  it,  but  I  cannot  promise  you  suc- 
cess. What  I  can  promise  is  to  wait  patiently  for 
Landry's  return,  and  not  to  ask  you  to  send  for  him 
until  we  have  done  all  in  our  power  to  restore  his 
brother  to  health.  Landry  has  begged  me  so  often 
to  help  Sylvinet,  that  he  will  approve  my  delaying 
the  happiness  of  his  return." 

When  Sylvinet  saw  little  Fadette  at  his  bedside, 

he  looked  displeased,  and  refused  to  say  how  h* 

was.     She  tried  to  feel  his  pulse,   but  he  drew 

away  his  hand,  and  turned  his  face  toward  the 

275 


FADETTE 

wall.  Fadette  made  signs  to  the  others  to  leave 
her  alone  with  him  ;  and  when  everybody  had 
gone,  she  put  out  the  lamp,  and  allowed  no  other 
light  to  enter  the  room  except  that  cf  the  moon, 
which  was  just  then  at  the  full.  Then  she  went 
back  to  Sylvinet's  side,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  com- 
mand, which  he  obeyed  like  a  child : 

"Sylvinet,give  me  both  your  hands  and  answer 
me  truly  ;  for  I  have  not  put  myself  to  this  incon- 
venience for  the  sake  of  money,  and  if  I  took  the 
trouble  to  come  here  to  care  for  you,  it  was  not 
to  be  received  in  this  thankless  way.  Pay  attention 
to  what  I  am  going  to  ask,  and  to  what  you  are 
going  to  answer,  for  it  will  be  impossible  for  you 
to  deceive  me." 

"  Ask  of  me  what  you  think  fit,  Fadette,"  said 
the  twin,  quite  bewildered  to  hear  himself  so  se- 
verely addressed  by  the  little  madcap  Fadette, 
whom  he  had  often  answered  with  a  shower  of 
stones  in  former  days. 

"  Sylvain  Barbeau,"  she  went  on,  "  I  believe 
that  you  wish  to  die." 

Sylvain  hesitated  a  moment  before  replying,  and 
then,  as  Fadette  pressed  his  hand  rather  tightly  to 
make  him  conscious  of  the  strength  of  her  will,  he 
said  with  some  confusion  : 
276 


FADETTE 

"Would  not  it  be  best  for  me  to  die,  since  ! 
see  that  I  am  a  trouble  and  burden  to  my  family 
because  of  my  ill  health,  and  because  of  my — " 

"Speak,  Sylvain ;  you  must  conceal  noth'ng 
from  me." 

"  Because  of  my  anxious  temperament  that  I 
cannot  help,"  answered  the  twin,  quite  overcome. 

"  And  also  because  of  your  bad  heart,"  said  Fa- 
dette  so  harshly  that  he  was  still  more  angry  and 
afraid. 


x8- 


277 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

UT  1   J  HY  do  you  accuse  me  of  a  bad  heart?" 

V  V     sa^d  he;  "you  insult  me  when  you  see 
that  I  have  no  strength  to  defend  myself." 

"  I  have  told  you  part  of  the  truth  about  your- 
self," resumed  Fadette,  "and  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  still  more.  I  have  no  pity  for  your  illness, 
for  I  understand  enough  about  it  to  be  sure  that  it 
is  not  serious  ;  and  if  you  are  in  any  danger,  it  is 
of  being  crazy,  for  you  are  doing  your  best  to  be- 
come so,  without  considering  where  your  perver- 
sity and  your  weakness  of  mind  are  leading  you." 

"Upbraid  me  for  my  weakness  of  mind,"  said 
Sylvinet  ;  "  but  as  to  my  perversity,  that  is  a  re- 
proach which  I  do  not  think  I  deserve." 

"  Do  not  try  to  excuse  yourself,"  returned  little 
Fadette  ;  "I  know  you  rather  better  than  you  know 
yourself,  Sylvain  ;  and  1  tell  you  that  weakness  en- 
genders falseness  of  heart,  and  it  is  on  that  account 
that  you  are  selfish  and  ungrateful." 
278 


FADETTE 

"  If  you  think  so  ill  of  me,  Fanchon  Fadet, 
my  brother  Landry  must  have  spoken  cruelly  to 
you  of  me,  and  has  let  you  see  how  little  he  cares 
about  me  ;  for  if  you  know  me,  or  think  you  know 
me,  it  can  be  only  through  him." 

"I  expected  this  of  you,  Sylvain.  I  was  sure 
that  you  could  not  say  a  few  words  without  com- 
plaining of  your  twin  and  finding  fault  with  him. 
Your  love  is  immoderate  and  ungoverned,  and 
tends  to  degenerate  into  petulance  and  spite.  From 
that  I  know  that  you  are  half  mad,  and  that  you 
are  not  kind.  Well,  1  can  tell  you  that  Landry 
loves  you  ten  thousand  times  more  than  you  love 
him  ;  and  the  proof  is  that  he  never  finds  fault 
with  you,  no  matter  what  pain  you  give  him, 
whereas  you  are  always  reproaching  him,  although 
he  does  nothing  but  yield  to  you  and  wait  upon 
you.  How  do  you  expect  me  not  to  see  the  differ- 
ence between  him  and  you?  So  the  more  kindly 
Landry  spoke  of  you,  the  more  ill  I  thought  of 
you ;  for  1  reflected  that  no  just  person  could  mis- 
understand so  good  a  brother." 

"  So  you  hate  me,  Fadette?     I  did  not  deceive 
myself,  then,  for  I  knew  that  you  stole  my  brother's 
love  from  me  by  insinuations  against  me." 
279 


FADETTE 

"  There  you  are  again,  Master  Sylvain  ;  and  I  am 
glad  that  you  lay  the  blame  on  me  at  last.  Very 
well,  I  reply  that  your  heart  is  hard,  and  that  you 
are  a  liar,  since  you  wilfully  misunderstand  and 
insult  a  girl  who  has  always  served  you  and  taken 
your  part,  although  she  knew  that  you  were  in- 
imical to  her ;  a  girl  who  has  deprived  herself  a 
hundred  times  of  the  greatest  and  only  pleasure 
she  had  in  the  world, — the  pleasure  of  seeing  Lan- 
dry and  being  with  him, — so  that  she  might  send 
Landry  to  you  and  let  you  enjoy  the  happiness  she 
renounced  herself.  And  yet  I  owed  you  nothing. 
You  have  always  been  my  enemy,  and  as  far  back 
as  I  can  remember,  I  never  met  a  boy  so  haughty 
and  unfeeling  as  you  were  to  me.  I  could  have 
taken  my  revenge,  for  there  has  been  no  lack  of 
opportunity.  If  I  have  not  done  so,  and  if  I  have 
returned  you  good  for  evil  without  your  knowledge, 
it  is  because  1  firmly  believe  it  to  be  my  duty  as  a 
Christian  to  forgive  my  neighbor  in  order  to  do 
what  is  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God.  But  when 
I  speak  to  you  of  God,  you  probably  do  not  under- 
stand me,  for  you  are  an  enemy  to  him  and  to  your 
own  salvation." 

11  I  allow  you  to  say  a  great  many  things,  Fa- 
280 


FADETTE 

dette  ;  but  it  is  a  little  too  much  for  you  to  accuse 
me  of  being  a  heathen." 

"Did  not  you  say,  just  now,  that  you  longed 
for  death  ?  And  do  you  think  that  is  a  Christian 
desire?  " 

"I  did  not  say  that,  Fadette.   I  said  —  " 

Sylvinet  stopped,  frightened  by  the  remembrance 
of  his  own  words,  which  seemed  impious  to  him 
in  the  light  of  Fadette's  expostulations. 

She  did  not  leave  off,  but  continued  to  remon- 
strate with  him. 

11  It  may  be,"  said  she,  "that  your  expression 
was  more  reprehensible  than  your  thought ;  for  I 
am  firmly  convinced  that  you  are  not  so  desirous 
of  dying  as  you  like  to  make  others  think,  in  order 
that  you  may  make  yourself  master  at  home,  and 
may  torment  your  poor  unhappy  mother  and  your 
twin,  who  is  simple  enough  to  believe  that  you 
want  to  put  an  end  to  your  days.  I  am  not  your 
dupe,  Sylvain.  I  believe  that  you  are  as  much 
afraid  of  death  as  anybody  else,  and  even  more  so  ; 
and  that  you  are  amusing  yourself  by  terrifying 
those  who  are  fond  of  you.  You  like  to  see  that 
the  wisest  and  most  necessary  resolutions  always 
give  way  before  your  threats  of  suicide ;  and  it  is 
281 


FADETTE 

indeed  very  convenient  and  pleasant  to  have  but 
to  say  a  word  to  make  everybody  bow  before  you. 
In  this  way,  you  rule  all  your  family.  But  as  this 
is  contrary  to  nature,  and  as  you  succeed  only  by 
means  which  God  disapproves,  he  punishes  you  by 
making  you  still  more  wretched  than  you  would  be 
if  you  obeyed  instead  of  commanding.  This  is  the 
reason  that  you  are  tired  of  a  life  which  has  been 
made  too  easy  for  you.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  what 
was  needed  to  make  you  a  good  and  well-behaved 
boy,  Sylvain.  You  should  have  had  very  harsh 
parents,  much  poverty,  many  days  without  bread, 
and  frequent  blows.  If  you  had  been  brought  up 
in  the  same  school  as  I  and  my  brother  Jeanet,  in- 
stead of  being  ungrateful,  you  would  be  thankful 
for  the  least  kindness.  Now,  Sylvain,  do  not  urge 
the  plea  that  you  are  a  twin.  I  know  you  have 
often  heard  that  the  love  of  twins  for  each  other 
is  a  law  of  nature,  which  would  cause  your  death 
if  it  were  crossed,  and  you  thought  you  were  only 
acquiescing  in  your  destiny  by  carrying  this  love 
to  excess ;  but  God  is  not  so  unjust  as  to  mark  us 
out  for  an  evil  destiny  before  we  are  born.  He  is 
not  so  cruel  as  to  endow  us  with  ideas  which  we 
cannot  overcome,  and  it  is  insolence  to  be  so  su- 
282 


FADETTE 

perstitious  as  to  believe  that  there  are  in  your 
blood  more  power  and  evil  destiny  than  resistance 
and  reason  in  your  mind.  Unless  you  are  crazy, 
I  shall  never  believe  that  you  are  not  able  to  fight 
against  your  jealousy  if  you  wish.  But  you  do  not 
wish,  because  your  fault  has  been  indulged,  and  you 
think  less  of  your  duty  than  of  your  caprice." 

Sylvinet  answered  nothing,  and  little  Fadette 
continued  for  a  long  time  to  upbraid  him  without 
mercy.  He  knew  that  she  was  right  in  the  main, 
and  that  only  in  one  point  was  she  too  severe,  and 
that  was  in  taking  for  granted  that  he  had  never 
striven  against  his  evil  nature,  and  that  he  had 
been  fully  aware  of  his  selfishness ;  whereas  he 
had  been  selfish  without  either  intending  or  know- 
ing it.  He  was  much  pained  and  humiliated,  and 
would  have  been  glad  to  give  her  a  better  idea  of 
his  conscience.  Fadette  knew  that  she  exagger- 
ated ;  but  she  did  it  purposely,  so  as  to  buffet  him 
thoroughly  in  spirit  before  visiting  him  with  the 
sweetness  of  consolation.  She  exerted  herself  to 
speak  harshly,  and  to  feign  anger,  and  all  the 
while  she  felt  so  much  love  and  pity  for  him  in 
her  heart  that  her  pretense  made  her  well-nigh  sick, 
and  she  left  him  more  wearied  than  he  was. 
283 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

THE  truth  is  that  Sylvinet  was  not  half  so  ill 
as  he  seemed,  and  as  he  liked  to  believe. 
Little  Fadette  had  perceived  immediately  on  feeling 
his  pulse  that  his  fever  was  not  high,  and  that  if 
he  were  slightly  delirious,  it  was  because  his  mind 
was  more  diseased  than  his  body.  So  she  thought 
she  should  set  to  work  on  his  mind  by  making 
him  afraid  of  her,  and  at  daylight  she  returned  to 
him.  He  had  not  slept,  but  was  quiet  and  apparently 
exhausted.  As  soon  as  he  saw  her  he  stretched  out 
his  hand,  instead  of  pulling  it  away  as  he  had  done 
the  night  before. 

"  Why  do  you  offer  to  shake  hands  with  me, 
Sylvain  ?  "  she  asked  ;  "  is  it  so  that  I  may  ascertain 
whether  you  still  have  fever  ?  I  see  by  your  face 
that  you  have  none." 

Sylvinet  was  much  embarrassed  at  being  obliged 
to  draw  back  the  hand  which  she  had  been  unwill- 
ing to  touch,  and  said  : 

284 


FADETTE 

"  It  was  to  bid  you  good-morning,  Fadette,  and 
to  thank  you  for  all  the  trouble  you  take  in  my 
behalf." 

*'  If  that  is  what  you  mean,  I  accept  your  good- 
morning,"  said  she,  taking  his  hand  and  keeping 
it  in  hers ;  "  for  I  never  refuse  a  courtesy,  and  I  do 
not  think  you  are  so  untrue  as  to  show  an  interest 
in  me  which  you  do  not  feel,  to  some  degree." 

Although  Sylvinet  was  quite  wide-awake,  he  ex- 
perienced a  great  sense  of  comfort  in  having  Fadette 
hold  his  hand,  and  he  said  very  softly : 

11  And  yet  you  treated  me  very  badly,  yesterday 
evening,  Fanchon,  and  I  do  not  know  how  it  is 
that  I  am  not  provoked  with  you.  I  am  very 
thankful  to  you  for  coming  to  see  me  in  spite  of 
all  the  grievances  you  have  against  me." 

Fadette  sat  down  at  his  bedside,  and  began  to 
talk  to  him  in  an  entirely  new  way  ;  she  was  so 
kind,  so  sweet,  and  so  tender  that  Sylvinet's  relief 
and  pleasure  were  the  greater  for  having  believed 
her  incensed  with  him.  He  wept  much,  confessed 
his  faults,  and  even  requested  her  forgiveness  and 
friendship  so  prettily  and  winningly  that  it  was 
easy  for  her  to  see  his  heart  was  better  than  his 
head.  She  let  him  pour  himself  out,  though 
285 


FADETTE 

she  still  occasionally  scolded  him,  and  whenever 
she  tried  to  take  away  her  hand,  he  insisted  upon 
keeping  it  in  his,  because  he  thought  it  cured  his 
sickness  and  his  sorrow  at  the  same  time. 

When  she  saw  that  he  had  reached  the  point  she 
wished,  she  said  : 

"lam  going  out ;  and  you  must  get  up,  Sylvain, 
for  you  have  no  more  fever,  and  you  must  not  stay 
here  coddling  yourself,  while  your  mother  tires  her- 
self out  waiting  on  you,  and  wastes  her  time  in  your 
room.  You  must  eat  what  your  mother  brings 
you,  in  accordance  with  my  directions.  She  will 
give  you  meat,  though  I  know  you  say  it  disgusts 
you,  and  live  only  on  messes  of  herbs.  But  never 
mind,  you  must  make  an  effort,  and  even  if  you 
do  feel  repugnance,  you  must  not  show  it.  It  will 
please  your  mother  to  see  you  eating  solid  food; 
and  if  you  succeed  in  overcoming  your  distaste  the 
first  time,  you  will  feel  less  the  second  time,  and 
none  the  third.  See  if  1  am  not  right.  Good-by, 
and  do  not  let  them  call  me  so  soon  again,  for  I 
know  that  you  need  not  be  ill  unless  you  wish." 

^^ Shall  you  not  come  back  this  evening?"  asked 
Sylvinet.     "  I  thought  you  were  coming  back." 

"I  do  not  practise  for  money,  Sylvain,  and  I 
286 


FADETTE 

have  something  else  to  do  besides  taking  care  of 
you,  when  you  are  not  ill." 

"  You  are  right,  Fadette;  but  you  think  my  wish 
to  see  you  is  all  selfishness  :  it  is  not  so,  for  it 
relieves  me  to  talk  with  you." 

"Very  well,  you  are  no  longer  weak,  and  you 
know  where  1  live.  You  are  aware  that  I  am  going 
to  be  your  sister  by  marriage  as  I  am  already  by 
the  affection  I  feel  for  you  ;  so  you  may  come  to  see 
me  without  incurring  any  blame." 

11 1  shall  come,  since  you  allow  me,"  said  Syl- 
vinet.  u  Good-by,  then,  Fadette;  I  am  going  to 
get  up,  although  I  have  a  bad  headache  from  lying 
awake  and  worrying  all  night." 

"I  will  try  to  take  away  your  headache,"  said 
she  ;  u  but  it  must  be  your  last,  and  remember  that 
I  order  you  to  sleep  well  to-night." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  forehead,  and  at  the  end 
of  five  minutes  he  was  so  much  soothed  and  re- 
freshed that  he  no  longer  felt  any  pain. 

"I  see,"  said  he,  "that  I  was  wrong  to  refuse 
your  aid,  Fadette  ;  for  you  have  a  great  gift  for 
healing,  and  can  charm  sickness  away.  The  others 
made  me  worse  with  then  drugs,  and  you  cure  me 
with   a  touch  ;  I  think  that  if  I  could  be  always 


FADETTE 

with  you,  you  would  keep  me  from  all  illness  and 
error.  But,  tell  me,  Fadette,  are  you  no  longer 
angry  with  me  ?  And  do  you  rely  on  the  promise 
of  entire  obedience  I  made  you  ?  " 

"I  do  rely  on  it,"  said  she,  "and  unless  you 
change  your  mind,  I  shall  love  you  as  if  you  were 
my  twin." 

"  If  you  really  meant  what  you  say,  Fanchon, 
you  would  be  less  formal  with  me,  as  twins  do  not 
use  so  much  ceremony  toward  each  other." 

"Very  well,  Sylvain,  get  up,  eat,  talk,  and 
sleep,"  said  she,  rising.  "This  is  my  prescription 
for  to-day.     To-morrow  you  must  set  to  work." 

"And  I  shall  go  to  see  you,"  said  Sylvinet. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  and  as  she  went,  she  looked  at 
him  with  so  much  affection  and  indulgence  that  he 
was  filled  with  a  sudden  desire  and  energy  to  rise 
from  his  bed  of  sickness  and  sloth. 


2S3 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 


MOTHER   BARBEAU  was  amazed  at  little 
Fadette's  skill,  and  that  evening  she  said 
to  her  husband : 

"  Sylvinet  is  better  to-day  than  he  has  been  for 
six  months;  he  ate  all  I  brought  him  to-day,  with- 
out making  faces  as  usual,  and  the  strangest  thing 
of  all  is  that  he  speaks  of  little  Fadette  as  if  she 
were  an  angel.  There  is  no  praise  he  has  not  given 
her,  and  he  is  most  anxious  for  his  brother's  return 
and  marriage.  It  is  like  a  miracle,  and  I  do  not 
know  whether  I  am  asleep  or  awake." 

"Miracle  or  no  miracle,"  said  Father  Barbeau, 
"the  girl  is  very  clever,  and  I  think  she  will 
bring  good  luck  to  the  family." 

Sylvinet  left  three  days  afterward  to  go  to  his 
brother  at  Arton.     He  had  asked  his  father  and 
Fadette  to  give  him  the  great  reward  of  being  the 
first  to  bring  Landry  word  of  his  happiness. 
19  289 


FADETTE 

"  All  joys  come  to  me  at  once,"  cried  Landry, 
half  fainting  with  happiness  in  his  twin's  arms, 
"  since  you  come  to  bring  me  home,  and  seem  as 
pleased  as  I  myself." 

They  returned  together  without  loitering  by  the 
way,  as  may  be  easily  believed,  and  never  were 
people  happier  than  the  family  at  the  Twinnery, 
when  they  sat  down  to  supper  with  Fadette  and 
little  Jeanet  at  the  table. 

Life  was  very  sweet  to  all  of  them  for  the  next 
six  months.  Little  Nanette  was  betrothed  to  Cadet 
Caillaud,  Landry's  best  friend,  next  to  the  mem- 
bers of  his  own  family,  and  it  was  decided  that 
the  two  weddings  should  take  place  at  the  same 
time.  Sylvinet's  fondness  for  Fadette  was  so  great 
that  he  would  do  nothing  without  her  advice,  and 
her  power  over  him  was  as  great  as  if  she  were 
really  his  sister.  If  it  still  sometimes  happened 
that  he  looked  melancholy  and  was  lost  in  reverie, 
Fadette  had  only  to  reprove  him  to  make  him 
smile  and  talk  again. 

The  two  pairs  were  married  on  the  same  day, 
at  the  same  mass,  and  as  there  was  no  lack  of 
money,  the  wedding  was  so  gay  that  Father  Cail- 
laud, who  had  never  in  his  life  before  failed  in 
290 


FADETTE 

sobriety,  looked  a  little  tipsy  on  the  third  day. 
Nothing  dampened  the  joy  of  Landry  and  his  family, 
and  I  may  even  say  of  the  whole  neighborhood  ; 
for  Father  Barbeau  and  Father  Caillaud,  who  were 
rich,  and  Fadette,  who  was  richer  than  both  of 
them  put  together,  showed  hospitality,  to  all  and 
gave  away  much  in  charity.  Fanchon's  good  heart 
prompted  her  to  return  good  for  evil  to  all  those 
who  had  once  thought  ill  of  her.  Later,  too,  after 
Landry  had  bought  a  fine  farm,  in  the  manage- 
ment of  which  he  and  his  wife  were  most  skilful 
and  successful,  she  had  a  comfortable  house  built 
for  the  purpose  of  gathering  together  all  the  un- 
fortunate children  of  the  parish,  during  four  hours 
of  every  week-day,  and  she  herself  and  her  brother 
Jeanet  took  the  pains  to  educate  them,  to  teach 
them  true  religion,  and  even  to  relieve  the  needs 
of  the  poorest  among  them.  She  remembered  that 
she  had  been  a  forlorn  and  unhappy  child,  and  her 
own  beautiful  children  were  early  trained  to  kind- 
ness and  sympathy  toward  those  who  were  neither 
rich  nor  petted. 

What  became  of  Sylvinet  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
happiness  ?     Something  that  no  one  could  under- 
stand, and  that  puzzled  Father  Barbeau  very  much. 
291 


FADETTE 

About  a  month  after  his  brother  and  sister  were 
married,  as  his  father  was  urging  him  to  take  a  wife, 
he  answered  that  he  had  no  taste  for  marriage, 
but  that  he  had  had  for  some  time  a  wish  which 
he  was  desirous  of  gratifying,  and  that  it  was  to 
enlist  as  a  soldier. 

As  boys  are  none  too  numerous  in  the  families 
of  our  part  of  the  country,  and  all  hands  are  needed 
there  for  the  cultivation  of  the  land,  it  is  extremely 
rare  for  anybody  to  volunteer.  So  Sylvinet's  de- 
cision caused  great  surprise,  especially  as  he  could 
give  no  reason  for  it  except  his  own  caprice  and  a 
military  ardor  of  which  he  had  never  been  sus- 
pected. All  that  his  father,  mother,  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  even  Landry,  could  say  was  powerless 
to  dissuade  him,  and  they  were  obliged  to  tell 
Fanchon,  who  had  the  best  head  and  gave  the 
best  advice  in  the  family. 

She  talked  for  more  than  two  hours  with  Sylvi- 
net,  and  after  they  had  parted,  it  was  seen  that 
both  Sylvinet  and  his  sister-in-law  had  been  weep- 
ing ;  but  they  looked  so  quiet  and  resolute  that 
there  was  no  more  use  in  raising  objections  when 
Sylvinet  said  that  he  persisted  in  his  desire,  and 
Fanchon  that  she  approved  his  resolution,  and  ex- 
292 


FADETTE 

pected  him  to  reap  great  advantage  from  it  in  time 
to  come. 

As  they  could  not  be  sure  that  she  had  not  more 
knowledge  on  the  subject  than  she  would  allow, 
no  one  dared  offer  further  opposition,  and  Mother 
Barbeau  herself  gave  in,  after  shedding  many  tears. 
Landry  was  in  despair,  but  his  wife  said  : 

"It  is  God's  will,  and  the  duty  of  all  of  us,  to  let 
Sylvain  go.  Believe  me,  I  know  what  I  say,  and 
please  ask  me  no  more  questions." 

Landry  accompanied  his  brother  as  far  as  he 
could,  and  when  he  returned  him  his  bundle,  which 
he  had  been  carrying  on  his  own  shoulders,  he  felt 
as  if  he  had  given  away  part  of  his  heart.  He 
went  home  to  his  beloved  wife,  who  was  obliged 
to  nurse  him  during  a  full  month,  as  his  sorrow 
made  him  really  ill. 

Sylvain  was  not  ill,  and  continued  his  route  to 
the  frontier  ;  for  it  was  in  the  time  of  the  great 
and  splendid  wars  of  the  emperor  Napoleon. 
Though  he  had  never  had  the  slightest  taste  for 
the  army,  he  mastered  his  own  inclinations  so 
perfectly  that  he  was  soon  distinguished  as  a  good 
soldier,  brave  in  battle  as  a  man  who  seeks  for 
death,  and  yet,  while  subjecting  his  body  to  the 
293 


FADETTE 

austerities  of  the  ancients,  he  was  gentle  and  sub- 
missive to  discipline  as  a  child.  As  his  education 
was  sufficient  to  admit  of  promotion,  he  obtained 
it,  and,  after  ten  years  of  fatigue,  courage,  and 
noble  conduct,  he  became  captain,  and  was  deco- 
rated into  the  bargain. 

"  Ah  !  If  he  could  only  come  back  at  last!"  said 
Mother  Barbeau  to  her  husband  the  evening  of  the 
day  on  which  they  had  received  a  delightful  letter 
from  him,  full  of  love  for  them,  Landry,  Fanchon, 
and  all  the  family.  "He  is  almost  a  general,  and 
it  is  quite  time  for  him  to  take  a  rest." 

"  His  rank  is  important  enough,  without  ex- 
aggerating it,"  said  Father  Barbeau,  "  and  it  is  a 
great  honor  for  a  peasant's  family." 

11  Fadette  predicted  it,"  said  Mother  Barbeau, 
"You   know  she  told  us  beforehand." 

"  No  matter,"  returned  Father  Barbeau,  "I  shall 
never  be  able  to  understand  how  his  taste  turned 
in  this  direction,  and  how  his  character  changed  so 
much,  for  he  used  to  be  quiet  and  self-indulgent." 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  mother,  "  our  daughter-in- 
law  knows  more  about  it  than  she  will  tell  ;   but 
nobody  can  deceive  such  a  fond  mother  as  I  am, 
and  I  think  1  know  as  much  as  our  Fadette." 
294 


FADETTE 

"  I  think  you  might  tell  me  now,"  said  Father 
Barbeau. 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Mother  Barbeau,  "  our 
Fanchon  is  too  much  of  an  enchantress,  and  she  be- 
witched Sylvinet  more  than  she  meant.  When 
she  found  that  the  charm  was  working  too  power- 
fully, she  tried  to  restrain  and  lessen  it,  but  she 
could  not ;  and  when  our  Sylvain  saw  that  he 
thought  too  much  of  his  brother's  wife,  he  went 
away  in  all  honor  and  virtue,  sustained  and  ap- 
proved by  Fanchon." 

"  If  that  is  true,"  said  Father  Barbeau,  scratching 
his  ear,  "lam  afraid  he  will  never  marry,  for  the 
nurse  of  Clavieres  said  long  ago  that  when  he  once 
fell  in  love,  he  would  forget  his  infatuation  about 
his  brother ;  but  that  he  would  never  love  but  one 
woman  in  his  life,  because  of  his  too  tender  and 
too  passionate  heart." 


295 


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2.  2>6  32  £~~ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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